


I’m gonna kiss you like the sun browns you

by collingtree



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Footy Ficathon, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 15:56:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3656250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collingtree/pseuds/collingtree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summer AU where Villa's dad owns a resort where Silva works. Multiple cameos, mostly Spanish NT </p><p>From a prompt at the Footy Ficathon Round Two (except I messed up and mixed up the characters)</p><p>title from Every Other Freckle by alt-J</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's gonna be a long, hot summer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a prompt here
> 
> http://thesilverwitch.livejournal.com/33981.html?thread=951485#t951485
> 
> Which I realized is closed but I just saw it now and liked it
> 
> Accidentally bastardized because I guess I can’t read properly and mixed up who was the lifeguard and who was the owner’s son. I’m sorry if this wrecks the story you were building in your head! Although Silva does do some shades-and-backwards-cap-wearing.

“That’s it, great work today!” Silva calls as he attempts to disengage yet another pair of arms thrown round his neck by some hyper-active 6 year old with curiously sticky hands for someone who has been in the pool for an hour and change. He brushes his wet hair out of his eyes ( _too long_ he notes to himself, _time for a trim_ ) and makes moves to climb out of the pool, hindered by eight goggle-clad heads crowding him and tugging at his arms and swim trunks.

 

“Silvaaaaaaa! Don’t go! Stay and play with us!” whines a voice in his ear - the owner, he assumes, of the hands still grasping at his shoulders. Silva hesitates a second, weighing the pros and cons of spending another couple of minutes splashing around in the gorgeous pool of a luxury resort against heading back to his (tiny, shared) staff bedroom near the back of the property to catch a couple hours sleep before his next round of teaching swimming lessons later in the afternoon. The little vacationer on his back senses his hesitation and pounces on it, leaning around and giving Silva the most lethal combo of puppy eyes and quivering lower lip that he’s seen all summer.

 

What the hell, he thinks, a couple minutes of Marco Polo in the scorching July heat can’t hurt. Plus, most of these poor kids have been dumped into his charge by parents who spend the days playing golf, laying by the adults-only pools, checking out the casino, or just generally ignoring their kids once they check in to the Villa Las Palmas.

 

Silva can’t wrap his head around the rich families that rock up to the five star resort where he works, so unlike the happy bedlam and tangles of family members that he remembers of his summer holidays at his _abuela’s_. Shaking his head to clear the homesicknesses he feels for a house not an hour up the island, Silva leans backwards until the little monkey on his back is dunked under the surface and comes back up sputtering and grinning.

 

“Fine. Five more minutes, then that’s IT!” declares Silva, who is promptly descended upon by a mess of screaming kids.

 

\---

 

 

David is idly rubbing at the back of his sunburnt neck and thinking, for the first time in months, about absolutely nothing. No spreadsheets, no depreciating values, no entry and growth strategies. Just his last final paper handed in for the year and the first plane ticket he could get his hands on to a town where he could sit and breathe for a minute under the pretense of learning about the family holdings. After touching down, he had checked in (much to the surprise of the concierge who he had sent into a flustered panic when he showed up without warning) and slept for almost 18 hours. The lack of deadline is a curious weightlessness David isn’t used to - although one to which he wouldn't mind becoming accustomed he muses with a tiny quirk of his mouth.

 

A frankly massive hand placed on the counter in front of him pulls David out of his own head as he looks up to meet the eyes of the owner of these drumming fingers. The bartender gives him a disarmingly sincere smile and nods at the sweating glass of water David’s been holding for the past half hour or so.

 

“You still working on that or can I get you another? A double this time maybe?” the bartender ( _Ra_ _úl,_ according to his nametag David notes) asks with a lifted eyebrow.

 

David is about to glower at him until he realizes that maybe he is taking the seat of a paying, _tipping_ customer and David knows there is no way the employees here are enthusiastic about surviving on salaries alone. Plus, Raúl is still grinning in a way that doesn’t look nearly as forced as David expects.

 

What the hell, he thinks, a cold beer in the scorching July heat can’t hurt. “Anything domestic on tap?”

 

Raúl’s grin, incredibly, grows, as he replies “nope, not out here. At the bar inside maybe. The tourists who come to the poolside bar only want this Corona shit. But it’s cold, and I’ve got lime wedges. For you man, I have two!”

 

David nods and watches as Raúl pulls a bottle from the fridge and produces a couple slices of lime, barely avoiding knocking a glass off the counter at his elbow and catching a can rolling off the counter with his free hand. It’s organized chaos and as Raúl starts whistling, David realizes he likes him already.

 

After setting the mercifully cold beer down in front of David, Raúl turns to the computer behind the bar. “You payin’ with cash or credit or should I charge this to your room? I can just start a tab if you want. No rush, but I’ve been in trouble for letting guests walk off before.”

 

David glances back at the fridge door Raúl left open and the couple empty glasses waiting to be cleared on the counter and finds he isn’t surprised. He reaches for his wallet and comes up with nothing, remembering he left all his stuff in his pants pocket when he threw on shorts and wandered outside, completely disoriented from sleep.

 

“Shit. Can I run and grab some cash from my room? I’ll be back in –“ David trails off, seeing the uncomfortable look on Raúl’s face. Shit indeed. “You know what? No problem, I’ll just charge it to my room”

 

Raúl’s grin is back instantly as he taps away at the screen. “What room number can I throw this under?”

 

“The, uh, the penthouse.” David watches Raúl’s face, slowly gauging his reaction, grimacing when Raúl’s mouth hangs open for a second too long before he schools it back into a polite smile. David assumes his picture is up on the screen too, as Raúl doesn’t ask for ID.

 

“Of course Mr. Villa” Raúl says, then hesitates a moment, looking a little in awe. He shakes his head and stands a little straighter, looking around a little desperately before realizing his bar is kind of a mess. As Raúl grabs at the empty glasses and bottles at the counter (dropping one), David sighs. Not an auspicious start to his summer.

 

“Please, just- not Mr. Villa. Just- just David. It’s no problem,” David says to Raúl’s retreating back, suddenly tired. To be fair, he should have known. The family business is not really where you go to escape the family name.

 

To his relief, Raúl returns, broom in hand, with a grin on his face. “David? Sounds good. You can call me Chori, everyone here does.”

 

David takes in Raúl’s six-foot-something of gangly-ness, as well as his complete lack of apparent control of his limbs. “I can’t imagine why.”

 

“Hey now boss man, just cause you basically own me and this whole island doesn’t mean you can be rude” Raúl says with yet another cheeky smile as he sweeps up the last of the broken glass.

 

“Not me!” David protests

 

“Well your daddy then. Make sure you mention to him what sparkling service I’ve given you. _Two_ limes!” smirks Raúl over his shoulder as he empties the dustpan into the trash.

 

David smiles into his beer, enjoying the company of this massive goof who doesn’t seem to be too interested in David’s family (jokes aside) or want to talk about investment strategies like everyone he meets from school.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

 

 

\---

 

 

After the last dripping wet kid is finally removed from his leg, Silva climbs out of the pool and weaves his way through the sea of deckchairs to the overhang by the bar where the alcove of employee lockers are. He catches Chori’s eye as he walks past, who meets his wave with a wink, in the middle of bantering off a dark haired guy while he sweeps up some sort of spill. Typical on both counts really.

 

All hope of a nap is pretty much gone as five more minutes in the pool became ten and then eventually almost an hour, so Silva pulls his backpack out of his locker and forgoes the change of clothes in favour of waiting it out in his trunks until his next shift in the pool starts. He towels off his hair and jams a ball cap on to keep it out of his face while draping a t-shirt over his shoulder for when he dries off enough to throw it on. As he pulls a notebook out of his locker, a pair of beat-up Ray Bans falls out and, with a thought to his mum and her preaching on sun safety, he throws them on too.

 

Silva lifts a banana off the counter of Mata’s snack kiosk and waves away whatever weak protest Juan felt contractually obligated to make before sliding in to a seat at the end of Chori’s bar and taking out his problem set from his Financial Accounting course.

 

A loud “Oye Silvita, you join a frat?” marks Chori’s approach, punctuated by a beer and a bowl of nuts appearing at his elbow as well as a flick to the brim of Silva’s backwards cap.

 

“Hair’s too long” mumbles Silva, although without venom as Chori never charges him for his afternoon snack (“solidarity!” Chori calls it, but mostly Silva figures Chori’s just too lazy to key anything into the computer).

 

“No matter, you’re still adorable” replies Chori cheerily, tapping Silva’s nose then turning the notebook around so he can read it while he polishes glassware. He lets out a low whistle through his teeth when he sees the row of figures and calculations Silva is working through. “Tiny fucking genius hey? I don’t even think I can count this high”

 

Silva smiles without looking up. “I’m not surprised. Unfortunately we can’t all rely on our charm and good looks to get by though.”

 

Chori waggles his eyebrows and flicks Silva’s cap once more before moving down the bar. Silva takes his glasses off to rub at his eyes as he looks up to thank Chori for the drink and sees he’s gone, now in front of the dark haired man from before and already speaking animatedly. Chori points down along the bar, and Silva realizes he is the topic of conversation. As the dark haired man turns to look at him, Silva ducks back to his notebook but not before seeing his face. He’s neat and attractive, meticulously groomed except for a ridiculous patch of hair below his mouth that Silva finds strangely endearing and, well, kind of hot. He has dark, intense eyes that meet Silva’s for a split-second and, for someone who spends 8 hours a day wearing only swim trunks, Silva feels sort of exposed. He quickly replaces his sunglasses.

 

Oh, he thinks as he pulls his shirt on. _Oh._

 

 

\---

 

 

After having spent the better part of an hour in easy conversation with the disarmingly friendly bartender, David is more relaxed than he’s been in months. The quick teasing is familiar and comfortable in a long forgotten way, as is the buzz from the not-insignificant number of Coronas he’s had. David pulls yet another lime wedge out of his empty bottle that he adds to the growing pile in front of him and smiles contentedly to himself just as Chori returns from the other side of the bar.

 

“Just cause your dad is fancy doesn’t mean you’re the Alpha David around here” Chori says, looking seriously into his eyes.

 

Mind fuzzy from the sun and shitty import beer, David struggles to wrest any meaning from Chori’s declaration (which, to be fair, is not an uncommon phenomenon for Raúl). His look of mild confusion registers with Raúl, who points down to the corner where a newcomer has sat down, head bent over a book.

 

“That’s Silva. David Silva. He’s worked here forever so been around longer than you.  If we’re going to be friends, you need to accept you’re going to be the second David in the game. Lucky for you we call him Silva or Silvita though.”

 

David refrains from mentioning that a) Silvita cannot be older than 16 with his narrow shoulders and backwards hat and b) technically, David has been around longer, this being _basically_ his resort. He decides neither of these are particularly useful things to say. Instead, David nods mock-seriously also, matching Chori in tone and joins him in looking at this Silva character.

 

As if he senses it, Silva takes his sunglasses off and rubs at his eyes before glancing up and catching the two of them staring. As Silva ducks back to his writing, David can’t help but keep looking. He’s older than David originally thought, maybe early twenties, and has with the darkest eyes David has ever seen as well as the kind of tan girls at David’s university seem to pay out the nose for yet can never quite match. The freckles covering his nose and the tops of his shoulders look like a map David wouldn’t mind following.

 

Oh, he thinks as he toys with the bottle in his hands. _Oh_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from the ultimate sunshine song Long Hot Summer by Keith Urban.


	2. I've got this need for you, forming in my beating heart

Silva hands off the last child to a sunburnt parent and accepts the last hug. He peeks over his shoulder, squinting through his shades against the setting sun, at the poolside bar. Chori’s shift is long over but he has stuck around, preferring basking in the sun and badgering poor Morientes for free drinks to lying around in their shared dorm-style room, and remains perched at the counter, chatting with his new friend. Silva has stolen more glances than he’d ever admit to, and for once, he doesn’t think he has been the consummate professional he has been praised as in the past, but Silva refuses to take all the blame. Without fail, every time Silva let his attention wander across the courtyard, Chori’s mysterious customer appeared to be studying him back. Silva blushed more times over the course his afternoon than he had since junior high.

  

Uncomfortably aware of both his audience and his suddenly own body, Silva climbs out of the pool while nervously running his hands through his hair to pull it off his face, realizing too late it makes him look like a wannabe Bond girl. He sees Chori snicker into his hand.  _Shit_.

 

A quick shower and fresh T-shirt later, Silva makes his way over to the bar and accepts his customary hair ruffle from Mori as well as a glass of water despite having been legal for years now. Chori pulls up the bar stool for Silva as he rehydrates and makes the cursory jokes about the ladies loving him, bringing up a picture he snapped on his phone of Silva receiving a messy but enthusiastic kiss from a five-year old who managed to float on her back for the first time after Silva’s gentle encouragement.

 

Silva sneaks a look at Chori’s companion to check his reaction but all he can find is a small frown, slightly unfocussed at that, and judging from the pile of chewed limes in front of him, Silva can’t be sure it’s for him or just a general drunken sense of irritation.

 

“So,” Chori says smirking, breaking a silence stretching a little bit too long, “David, meet David”

 

“Ahh,” David hums, “you’re the Alpha David.” The self-satisfied look on his face almost is enough to make Silva forget how completely he does not understand. He looks at Chori to explain the situation, although thinks to himself, _famous last words_.

 

“Worry not Silvita, I have explained that this upstart, this David will never replace you in our hearts.”

 

Silva blushes off the endearment and reached across Chori to offer David a hand to shake in some semblance of maturity. “David, nice to meet you. I’m David too, but Silva to everyone except my mum.”

 

“Silva.” David slurs, expressionless, as though feeling it out in his mouth. “Silva” David repeats.

 

Silva looks at him expectantly and, after a beat, prompts “nice to meet you, David.”

 

“David Silva,” David repeats again, frowning for real now. “I am Villa I guess, but don’t… Just don’t.”

 

Anything else David might want to say is lost as he leans his head against his arms, crossed on the bar top. Chori hauls him up and out of his seat. “Up we go David, let’s get something in your stomach or tomorrow will be roughhhhh” Chori chides (cheerfully, typical) as David’s eyes drift shut. “Silvita, at least try make your tiny self useful. Grab his other arm. We’ve got a bit of a trek to the top floor.”

 

  

\---

 

 

As soon as the door to the penthouse suite swings open, Chori begs off, claiming dinner plans with friends from Las Palmas Reales, the resort down the road, and leaving Silva with strict instructions to order something for David to eat. By this point, it is fairly obvious that David isn’t just another guest given the room number and last name, and Silva recognizes that it’s a relatively stupid career move to leave the boss’s son passed out and face down in the entry way of a room that costs more for a night than Silva makes in a week pulling double shifts.

 

Silva squats down to nudge carefully at David’s shoulder, wary of any bodily emissions he wouldn’t want to get on the wrong end of. David’s muffled groans are of little use when Silva questions him about the room service menu, but he at least manages to drag himself to the couch. Clicking on the TV for some background noise, Silva calls down to order the biggest, greasiest burger he can find for David, as well as a sandwich for himself. He figures charging things to the room won’t hurt if he’s stuck playing babysitter for a while.

 

Setting a glass of water down next to a prone David, Silva rummages around in his bag for the bottle of pills he uses for headaches from too much sun and figures he might as well take pity on David.

 

“Here,” he offers “you should probably drink as much water as you can and take a couple of these. They’re just ibuprofen I swear, but they might make tomorrow suck a little less.”

 

 _Suck_ , thinks Silva, immediately mortified, _I just said ‘suck’. I could not sound more like a fifteen year old girl if I tried_.

 

David offers him a sleepy scowl but muses disjointedly to himself about how cute Silva’s face looks scrunched up self-consciously and notes his blush extending down the collar of his t-shirt. He dutifully swallows the proffered tablets and drains the glass of water before setting the cup down and burrowing back into the cushions, just barely having the presence of mind to pull of his beer stained shirt. His father would not be pleased with any golden-coloured residue left on the absurd white couch.

 

Silva looks at the back of his head uncertainly before clearing his throat and saying “I’ll just- I’ll wake you when the food comes then?” And is satisfied with the terse grunt he receives. Sitting cross-legged on the floor at the foot of the couch, Silva clicks idly through the channels for a couple of minutes before sighing, defeated, and pulling out his problem set again.

 

Lost in calculations, the chime of the suite’s doorbell about a half hour later makes him start. He pulls open the door to reveal Jordi bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet behind a dinner cart.

 

“Shit Silvita, what the fuck do you think you’re doing in there? Boss is gonna kill you man!” Jordi squeaks at him when he recognizes the decidedly not-posh resident of the owner’s suite.

 

“Leave it Alba. It’s a long story. Basically, owner’s son is passed out from one too many drinks and Chori bailed on babysitting. I don’t think I can just leave him” Silva sighs.

 

“Dark haired guy? Questionable soul patch?”

 

“The very same” Silva replies, although he wouldn’t call it questionable.

 

Jordi rolls up onto his tip toes and peers over Silva’s shoulder. “Listen Silvita if you didn’t want to tell me you were banging the boss’s kid no problem, but you don’t have to lie to my face about it!”

 

Silva’s mouth hangs open for a second before he turns around and follows Jordi’s line of sight to the couch where a very much awake, considerably more alert David is looking through Silva’s notebook and making a note in the margin, naked from the waist up and looking distinctly rumpled while rubbing absently at his eyes.

 

“Alba- Jordi- You gotta believe me. He was asleep a minute ago-”

 

Jordi just smirks and hold up his hand. “Relax Silvita. Secret’s safe with me. Now you’ve got a sugar daddy though, you better tip the help well.”

 

Silva shoots him a murderous look and pulls a couple crumpled dollars from his shorts. He figures the meal is charged to the room anyways.

 

Jordi winks and shoves the cart past him and sets the plates down on the table. David doesn’t glance up until Jordi clears his throat and smiles, fishing for another tip. Silva kicks his shin behind the cart.

 

David hauls himself to his feet with only a little bit of a groan and forces a smile as well. “Thank you” he says, shaking Jordi’s hand in the kind of well-practiced hand off only the most privileged elite can do without seeming completely ridiculous.

 

Jordi pockets the bill and smiles a little wider. With a thank you to David and a wink and mouthed “enjoy!” to Silva, Jordi wheels his cart out the way he came and closes the door behind him with a discreet click.

 

The silence in the suite stretches a little too long to be comfortable as both men study the food on the table with a disproportionate amount of interest. David runs a hand over his face, trying to wipe off his frown and Silva fiddles with the hem of his shirt and pulls the hair out of his eyes in a nervous habit for what seems like the hundredth time since he met David earlier in the afternoon. The presence of the sandwich on the table makes Silva feel a little guilty about taking advantage of passed-out David’s tab until David breaks the silence.

 

“I really appreciate you doing this. I know you’re off-duty now, and I’m sorry for cutting into your free time like this. I wish I could say I’m not usually so cranky but I’m not sure that’s true.”

 

Silva makes a polite noise meaning something like ‘no problem’ or ‘I don’t mind’ while gathering his backpack and David smiles knowingly before continuing.

 

“It’s pretty embarrassing for me to get a kind of wasted on light beer. I’d love if you stuck around to eat with me so I can convince you I’m a little cooler than that. It looks like there's enough food for two” David continues  wryly.

 

Silva smiles hesitantly and looks ready to politely decline when David plays his trump card.

 

“Plus you know, I think I caught a mistake on you calculations in the profit and loss statement. I can help you fix that if you like.”

 

One glance at the incredulous look at Silva’s face and David knows he’s got him. Anyone who takes notes as neatly and comprehensively as the ones he found in Silva's notebook has to take almost personal offence to an error in calculation. Before Silva has a chance to protest, David (having sobered up considerably during his power nap) sits down and slides the notebook with a figure circled in pencil across the table and takes a bite out of his burger, gesturing for Silva to sit down and do the same.

 

Reluctantly, Silva pulls out the chair opposite and perches hesitantly on the edge of it.

 

“It’s the fixed assets” David says through a mouthful of fries “you have inconsistent amounts in your first and second disclosure statements, but if you eliminated external holdings, it should fix that.”

 

Silva nods, already absorbed in striking through one line of numbers and replacing it with more consistent figures. Absently, he begins to pick at the plate of fries David has silently pushed across the table.

 

After a couple minutes of silence save for chewing and the scratching of the pencil, Silva looks up.

 

“Whoa. You’re right. That would have messed up all my numbers later on too. Thanks a lot.”

 

David finishes chewing and smiles. “Call it even then. I don’t know how I would have gotten here or what shape I’d be in now if you had left when Chori did. Plus, what good is a degree in that stuff if I can’t show off a little to the cute lifeguard who bailed me out.”

_Shit_ , thinks David, immediately mortified, _maybe I’m still a little drunk_. _I could not sound more like a creepy old lady if I tried_.

 

Silva hides a tiny smile behind his sandwich and secretly admires the grimace David can’t suppress before getting back to his notebook.

 

“Objectively speaking” David continues, trying to save face, “I mean those little girls this afternoon seemed to think so. And their mothers for that matter!”

 

Silva laughs a little and David visibly relaxes. Figuring he should let David off the hook for buying him dinner and also being fairly adorable, Silva pulls on a straight face.

“Not really my type.”

 

“Oh, too young? The right size for you though, surely Enano?” David says, nudging Silva’s shoulder.

 

Silva covers his face with his hands and groans through his fingers. “Fucking Chori can’t keep his mouth shut.”

 

Villa throws back his head and laughs outright, for what seems to him like the first time in ages. His face isn’t used to smiling so much, but when Silva ducks his head to hide the smile he can’t suppress, David finds he can’t bring himself to mind.

 

 

\---

 

 

“And after the tax expenses are taken out, that’s it. Gross profit registered.” David emphasizes his point by underscoring the final number. Silva double checks the figures with the calculator on his phone then leans back with a mighty exhalation. David watches the movement in his shoulders and chest before averting his eyes.

 

“I can’t thank you enough. I usually just have to look up how to do all that kind of stuff.” Silva says as he closes his notebook and tugs his backpack from under his chair.

 

“They don’t teach you that in class?” David asks, frowning.

 

“I’m sure they do. I just have to miss a bunch of classes in the spring and summer cause of... You know, work.” Silva won’t meet his eyes. David’s frown deepens but he can’t think of anything to say to break the silence, Silva clears his throat. “Anyways, it’s getting pretty late. Thanks again for the help and the food. I’m gonna, uh, head home now.”

 

A glance out the window reveals the sun has basically set, much to the surprise of the two amateur accountants who had passed the last couple of hours deep in income statements, interest expenses., and room service.

 

David watches the summer storm blowing in off the water for a moment then turns back to Silva, noting his worn t-shirt and flip flops that don’t look like they’ll provide cover for the ten minute walk across the lot to the staff housing. As Silva bends over to pull a baseball cap out of his bag, David can’t help but notice the curve of his spine and the way his shirt hangs off him. He thinks back to delicate wrists and tapered fingers tapping on the table as a problem is puzzled through and all of a sudden wants to tuck him away and keep him dry and warm and safe and _whoa_ David thinks to himself, _where did this come from_.

 

Instead, David forces a sweatshirt and pair of trackpants into Silva’s reluctant hands and waits until he looks adequately covered. The cuffs on both the hoodie and the pants are double rolled and Silva’s face is swallowed by the hood. His hands fiddle self-consciously at the dragging hem and David has to look away in fear Silva will somehow see the pull David feels in his chest.

 

A beat passes as they study the carpet in front of their feet until both speak up at once.

 

“Thanks- uh, thank you” Silva wins out “again. For the help. And the dinner. And now the jacket. I’m just-“ he makes an abortive gesture over his shoulder at the door and ducks his head, grabbing at the straps of his bag, colour rising on his cheeks again.

 

David reaches past him to open the door, two decades of manners drilled into him by stepmothers and nannies.

“It’s been my pleasure. Anyways, I’m going to stick around for most of the summer you know. In case, uh, you needed more help or something. Now you know where to find me. If you want to. If you need to. For, you know, school. Or whatever.”

 

 _Smooth_ David thinks to himself, _not exactly killing it tonight_.

 

Silva shoots him another quick smile and slips out the door under his arm, non-committal and polite for someone who had been leaning over David, practically in his lap going over numbers a couple of minutes ago.

 

It’s all David can do to not lean out into the hallway to watch him leave, instead closing the door quietly and resting his head against it. After a couple deep breaths and the decision to blame it on the weird sleeping pattern and drinking on an empty stomach, David vows to play it a little cooler in the future as he turns to get ready for bed.

 

He heads to the bathroom to wash the less-than-savoury parts of his day off his body and out of his head. David scrubs vigorously at his face and splashes water on his neck and chest before looking up and making eye contact in the mirror with a face that looks familiar in a distant way. The tightness around his mouth is gone, as is the tension in his neck and the crease between his eyebrows. The pink of a fresh sunburn doesn’t distract from the new, happier, more relaxed way he feels already. He thinks of tanned skin and a mouth turned up at one side and the lingering scent of chlorine on skin. David smiles to himself.

 

As David moves to the bedroom, he stops to refold an undeniably pretentious throw on couch. A dark shape wedged in between the still-pristine cushions catches his eye and a second of rummaging uncovers a pair of battered sunglasses.

 

David sets them gently on the dresser next to his bed and smiles when he realizes this gives him an excuse to at least talk to Silva again. He looks at them until he falls asleep.

 

 

\---

 

 

Silva ducks out the service entrance, still kicking himself for not having anything witty or charming on hand to say goodbye with, although neither witty nor deliberately charming has ever been his strong point. He replays the past admittedly bizarre couple of hours, from the seemingly charged looks across the bar and courtyard to both the awkwardness and comfortable camaraderie in the suit, and decides that no, maybe he isn’t flattering himself. There really might have been something there.

 

The wind and rain whip through his hair and at his exposed skin. He burrows further into the hood of the worn sweatshirt David practically shoved into his hands and notes the way it smells. He inhales as he turns down one of the darker footpaths. Clean, Silva notes, and definitely expensive.

 

It’s a subtle reminder at how completely out of his league David is, no matter how patiently he explained and re-explained amortization when Silva had spaced out to (perhaps unsubtly?) admire David’s surprisingly sinewy forearms. Despite David’s self-deprecating humour and fairly sloppy eating habits, Silva is well-acquainted with the class of person that he is and the kind of family he comes from. He resolves to put the slightly grouchy, seriously cute resort-dweller out of his mind.

 

Mercifully, Chori is fast asleep when the door clicks shut behind him. Head-back, mouth-open, dead to the world kind of sleeping Silva notes gratefully, not feeling ready to answer questions about the hours since Chori left the suite and now or the obviously borrowed clothes Silva finds himself sporting.

 

He tosses his bag into the corner and plugs his phone in to charge, fumbling around a little in the darkness. Silva makes his way to the bathroom and goes about his regular bedtime routine but pauses in the middle of brushing his teeth, studying himself in the mirror. Silva knows he might not be conventionally attractive; he’s not tall and charismatic like Chori, doesn’t possess the self-assurance and classic good looks of Mata, he's not wise and kind like Mori, isn’t even cheeky in the sometimes charming way Alba is. He studies how his hair falls in a way that he’s constantly brushing it out of his face, the dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose, the narrow curve of his shoulders. He thinks back to frowning  dark eyes and a pair of sturdy looking arms and that fucking soul patch again. Silva isn’t sure if he finds himself lacking or not (usually tries not to think about it), but realizes he genuinely hopes David doesn’t.

  

Suddenly exhausted, Silva climbs into bed, still in David’s slightly-damp sweatshirt. Absently, Silva notes he now has an excuse to see David again, an occasion he both relishes and dreads. He tries to pretend he's still wearing it because it’s cold in his room but as he lets himself be lulled to sleep by Chori’s not-so-gentle snoring, he admits to himself that it might be a little more than that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right on, thanks for reading! Give me a shout if there are any (Spanish NT I'm thinking?) cameos you suggest for resort staff. I think I may be running out of Valencia players that have well-known or common characterizations still
> 
> title from Warm Water by BANKS


	3. We don't know what we're doing but it feels right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for sticking with this! The comments have all been really sweet and lovely and very much appreciated :). Hopefully I've been a good listener re: characters to include but if anyone wants to help me pick Real Madrid boys for the next bit I'm in, ideally circa 2010ish

The blaring of his phone on the nightstand wakes David from a fitful sleep. He fumbles blearily for it but a grin splits his face as he sees the number.

 

“Hello?”

 

Barely before David can finish picking up the phone, the voice on the other ends calls out “RISE AND SHINE GUAJEEEEE!”

 

“For God’s sake Pepe, what time is it? Why the yelling? And how do you know where I am?”

 

“Excuse you Guaje, you’re speaking to the general manager of the illustrious island resort of Villa Las Palmas, currently with the second highest TripAdvisor rating in all of the Canary Islands.”

 

“No shit!” David replies, smiling “they finally trust you with some power! Last time I spoke to you, you were just a lowly concierge…”

 

“Shut up David. That was years ago. Just because you won’t talk about my work with me doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. Anyways, you can’t honestly think that you’d show up here unannounced, throwing poor, lovable Santi into a frenzy, and I wouldn’t find out about it?”

 

David is silent for a second before answering hesitantly “my dad knows doesn’t he.” It’s a statement not a question.

 

Pepe sounds appropriately embarrassed. “Yeah, sorry Guaje. You know I had to tell him though. That’s why I’m calling. He wants you to spend a couple days shadowing me and getting comfortable with all the operations, from canteen to boardroom. Pretty soon you’re going to boss us all around!”

 

David’s answering groan does little to distract Pepe from his impassioned, mock-serious monologue.

 

“It feels like just yesterday you were a surly thirteen year old, sneaking naps behind my front desk in Villa Valencia and making me lie to the newest wife you father had sent to look for you! Some of them I wouldn’t mind being found by, but I digress. Now, you’re getting drunk at poolside bars and shacking up with my lifeguards. I couldn’t be more proud! I’ll be at your door in ten minutes. Be wearing pants.”

 

Without waiting for a reply, Pepe ends the call. Although frustrated to be found so quickly, David smiles, proud of Pepe for moving up the ranks and also relieved to have a friendly face if he has to be babysat for his father.

 

\---

 

The blaring of his phone on the nightstand wakes Silva from a fitful sleep. He gropes weakly at his phone, blindly searching for the snooze button before Chori makes good on his threats to throw a shoe across the room.

 

Two snoozes later, the only thing dragging Silva out of bed is the thought of breakfast in the kitchen before his early shift. After brushing his teeth and throwing on a pair of swim trunks, Silva is running out the door when he sees the discarded pants on the floor. He continues for a couple of steps, already kind of late, before hesitating and doubling back, shoving the two articles of clothing into his backpack before slipping out the door, leaving the lights on to deliberately spite a grumbling Chori.

 

\---

  

Pepe lets himself in without knocking as David is pulling on his trainers. After his old friend has completed his thorough inspection of David from the top of his head to the soles of his feet (with a derisive snort at David’s facial hair), Pepe pulls him out the door. David has to double back to slide the pair of sunglasses into the pocket of his shorts.

 

The first order of business is a stop at the front desk where Santi is working again. David greets the chirpy receptionist with a sincere apology for complicating his plans the day before. Santi surprises David by reaching across the counter and pulling him into a hug, giggling. David is shocked into returning his eye-crinkling grin. Despite Santi being no older than David himself, David leaves with a pat on the head and a handful of candy folded into his palms by the tiny, smiling Asturian, who invites David to visit him whenever he has time.

 

Once Pepe has decided the fence has been mended to his satisfaction, the next order of business is, mercifully, breakfast. The journey across the lobby to one of the restaurants is full of smiles, waves, and curious looks as Pepe cuts a popular figure through the staff and guests. A neat, compact maître d’ introduces himself as Pedro and ushers them through a bustling dining room into the kitchen.

 

A mountain of a man with long, shaggy hair shakes his hand before yelling at something over David’s shoulder and excusing himself. Pepe introduces him as Carles the head chef and David watches his path to a tangle of bodies and sees an already familiar pair of dark eyes. David stands a little straighter but can’t bring himself to look away. Pep nudges him with a knowing smile before clearing his throat and turning to address the kitchen.

 

\---

 

The kitchen is hot and loud already as Silva ducks through the staff door. He can hear all the usual clanging of pots and pans and he weaves through the throng of waiters picking up their orders from the breakfast rush as well as the undeniable sound of Cesc drumming on something with a whisk and a spatula to accompany Gerard’s serenade to Puyol. The head chef rolls his eyes at his line cooks but smiles slightly as he turns away, shaking his head. Silva greets the towering kitchen head with a wave and Puyol gives him a nod and pushes a plate across the pass-through. Silva wishes he didn’t have to get up on his tiptoes to see its contents.

 

“Enanoooo!” Cesc appears by his side, now with a shocking blonde streak dyed in his mullet, “what’s up hermano? How you been?”

 

“Since I saw you yesterday morning you mean?” Silva asks, albeit without venom as Cesc tucks a sandwich wrapped in butcher paper into Silva’s backpack.

 

Gerard unavoidably shows up too, slinging one arm around Silva and sliding another ration of sausages on to his plate. “Gotta put some meat on these bones eh nene?”

 

Silva submits to the teasing and hair ruffling, knowing he can wait it out until the double act tires and moves on to joke around elsewhere. A column of smoke rises from a pot on the stove and a wordless roar from Puyol ends their ministrations as they laughingly make their way back to their stations, trading blows with a ladle and a wooden spoon. Silva perches himself on a counter next to his two friends working as he wolfs down his breakfast. He’s about to walk his plate over to the dish pit when Puyol walks by and replaces it with a plate with another omelette on, giving him a wink before yelling at Gerard to stop eating strips of bacon off the plates ready for customers.

 

After he’s eaten roughly his body weight in breakfast foods, Silva tidies away his dishes and tries to duck out the back but cannot escape Gerard’s customary goodbye-headlock as Cesc tries to force strawberries into Silva’s mouth. As Silva is squirming fruitlessly, he looks up to see the door from the main dining room opens and Pepe enter, followed by David. Puyol greets them before spotting Geri and Cesc and making his way over.

 

Silva unfortunately catches David’s eye and notices the nudge Pepe gives him. Everyone in the kitchen straightens simultaneously save for Gerard and Cesc who are facing the other direction. Silva blushes furiously and tries to claw at Gerard’s arm.

 

Puyol huffs and separates the Cesc and Geri by the ear. Pepe sends him a wry smile and a thanks before clearing his throat and addressing the kitchen as a whole.

 

\---

 

 “Morning ladies, gentlemen, and children” Pepe starts, sending a sharp look at the two sheepish line cooks still wincing and rubbing their ears, “I’d like to introduce David Villa, of the Villas obviously. He’s in town for the summer and he’s going to be working with me and learning the ropes of most of the departments. Let’s make him feel welcome and pretend to be impressive or at least kind of competent. Sound good? Perfect. Thanks. As you were guys.”

 

Pepe smirks and the kitchen gets back to life with a crash as Cesc sheepishly overturns an empty colander and Geri smacks the back of his head. David gives a smile and nod and stilted wave before tucking his hand back in his pocket. None of the workers are paying any attention to him anymore except the short, mulleted-brunette and tall, gangly man-child Pepe had called out earlier. They exchange some whispers and a menacing looking grin. The short one saunters over and introduces himself, pumping David’s hand with his own flour-dusted one. David resists wiping it on his pants. As Cesc (“a new friend” he is assured, and David finds himself making friends at an alarming rate) is chattering on, the taller one (“Gerard, but Geri”, according to his new friend) lurches over with Silva in a tow.

 

“We noticed the borderline bizarre amount of eye contact going on and so we thought we’d hurry this along” explains Gerard.

 

Puyol’s voice rises about the regular kitchen clamour and Cesc and Gerard hurry off, blowing kisses over their shoulders. Silva looks mutinously at their retreating backs before turning to David.

 

“Hey. I gotta head to work but I have your clothes in my bag. I’ll be at the pool until 3 or so but anytime after that I can drop them off somewhere?”

 

He can hear snickering from Geri and Cesc even over the kitchen racket. Even David has to smile a little.

 

“Same pool as yesterday?” David asks.

 

“Yeah” replies Silva, checking his watch “actually I should be there like right now. I’ll catch you later. If you come around, I mean. Anyways. Bye”

 

The last part of that is delivered over his should as he jogs out the door. David watches his retreating back until he’s out of sight. He can hear Geri and Cesc snicker again through the pass-through.

 

\---

 

Jesús’s quiet composure has been a soothing presence to Silva all afternoon as the two lifeguards sit side by side on the stand. Navas waits patients as Silva picks at a loose thread on the hem of his work-issued shirt and squints against the sun.

 

“Where are your glasses?” Navas finally asks as Silva’s agitation becomes impossible to politely ignore.

 

“It’s a really long story.” Silva mumbles, still avoiding eye contact.

 

Navas smiles imperceptibly. “Does it have anything to do with the Villa kid?”

 

Silva makes an incredulous face as Navas knocks their shoulders together. “Chori told Sergio last night and he texted me this morning that you might want to talk to someone non-obnoxious.”

 

Navas laughs a little at the disbelieving look Silva gives him before continuing. “Okay, maybe Sergio told me to tease you about it, but _I_ figured you might want to talk to someone non-obnoxious.”

 

Silva weighs his option before deciding Navas is probably his most sympathetic audience available. “I’m not sure what’s going on really. I mean I’m sure you heard from Ramos about him getting drunk at the bar and we took him up to his room before Chori bailed. I spent like four hours there doing my accounting homework so I have no idea why I’m still thinking about him. But he was patient and nice and God he is really hot. I’m pretty sure he kind of checked me out a couple times. I’m not _really_  sure but I think so.”

 

Navas nods knowingly. “Say Silva, what does this Villa guy look like?”

 

“Not Villa. David” Silva correct automatically. “He’s a little taller than me I guess, definitely broader. Dark spiky hair-”

 

“Questionable soul patch?” Navas interrupts. Silva frowns. Not questionable.

 

“Well, yeah. Chori tell you?”

 

Navas smirks “actually, no.”

 

Silva is about to ask how he could have known that (Alba maybe?) when he hears a throat clearing behind him.

 

“Hey David. Silva. Hey Silva. I have your glasses here. You left them in my room last night.” Villa appears in front of them, offering the glasses. Navas snorts into his hand, causing David to wince. “I mean, when we did math. You left them when we did math.”

 

Navas takes it as his cue to go patrol the pool for a bit, winking over his shoulder as he jumps down off the platform.

 

“Thanks” Silva says, slipping them on “I needed these. For, you know, sun safety.”

 

A beat passes in silence before David opens his mouth and a stream of words falls out.

“Look, I’m usually way more coherent than this, but you don’t say a lot and I’m kind of intimidated because you’re really smart and I’ve already let it slip I think you’re cute. Not _cute_. Just, ah, just nice-looking. You know. So just- I’m gonna go now then.” David turns, mortified.

 

Silva can’t stop himself from smiling that David, whose dad is inarguably the most powerful man on the island when he deigns to show up, is intimidated. David, who almost single-handedly dragged Silva through his problem set, thinks Silva is smart.

 

“You could stay, if you wanted. Hang out for a bit. Jesús won’t be back for a while, and there’s another lifeguard chair across the pool with better sun he can sit in when he's done his round” Silva offers shyly.

 

David gives him a relieved grin and accepts Silva’s hand up. Before another silence can grow, David reaches for a surefire conversation starter. “So, Cesc and Gerard?”

 

“Geri” Silva corrects automatically, then “yeah. They’re something.”

 

“I’m surprised Carles has any hair to speak of!”

 

“Puyi” Silva corrects a second time with a grin “if you’re going to stick around, you gotta get to know the natives. How long are you staying for?”

 

“Most of the summer until I go to Madrid for grad school. Pepe is showing me the daily operations for, you know, eventually.”

 

The conversation lags for the first time until Silva picks up the slack.

 

“Well, you can’t be more incompetent than Pepe. Don’t fire him though. The guests love him.”

 

David smiles, potential awkward situation navigated. “I can’t imagine why.”

 

 

\---

 

 

The hour until the end of Silva’s shift passes with easy conversation, facilitated by Navas’s vigilance and Silva’s complete lack thereof. David is silently grateful for the other, impossibly slighter lifeguard making it possible for Silva to sit and relax, although secretly disappointed he doesn’t get to see Silva save the day, shirtless and Baywatch style. On second thought, it’s probably better for the resort, safety- and business-wise, this way.

 

The relief shift for the lifeguards shows up and Silva and Jesús head to the lockers to grab their stuff. After Silva motions with his head, David follows them. As Silva is pulling a towel through his hair, he is lifted clean off the ground by a towering blonde man.

 

“Hola Silvita!” The giant yells, pronouncing the ‘h’.

 

Silva grimaces as he is set down, uncomfortably aware that every interaction with David seems to be accompanied by someone treating Silva like a child. Fortunately, David looks amused, if not shocked.

 

“Joe! Leave him alone. Can’t you see you’re making him blush!” A shorter companion appears at Joe’s shoulder, speaking in Spanish that’s marginally better.

 

Silva lets out a long-suffering sigh. “David, meet Joe and James. These are our surf instructors from England for the summer. They are loud and obnoxious but I don’t think they can understand most of what we say so it’s fine. The tourists like them so sometimes it’s worth it when they buy drinks with tip money.”

 

James shoots Silva a withering look as Joe grins unconcerned before turning to David, sobering. “So. You’re the boss’s kid.” He gives David a once over seriously as both David and Silva muse on how fast news travels. Joe's face splits into a smile. “You coming out with us tomorrow?”

 

Silva flinches visibly.

 

“Sorry, what?” David asks, confused.

 

“Staff night out at _La Furia Roja_ hermano! Tomorrow, be there.”

 

This time, all the native Spanish speakers and James all flinch at Joe’s pronunciation of the ‘j’ in _Roja_.

 

“It’s a club a little ways up the island. A bunch of us go, as well as a group of guys from _Las Palmas Reales_ to blow off steam. You’re welcome to join us” James offers, tugging Joe back so David’s personal space is more intact.

 

David glances at Silva but his expression is unreadable. “I’ll, uh, I’ll think about it?”

 

Navas nods his approval and heads off to the showers.

 

“Perfect! Here, give Silvita your number and he’ll text you all the info.” After lifting David’s phone out of his pocket and supervising Silva entering his number (and one last ruffle of Silva’s hair), James and Joe head off in the direction of the bar.

 

“You don’t have to come-“ starts Silva.

 

“Yeah, I mean, I might be kind of busy tomorrow I’m not sure yet. We’ll see how it goes.”

 

Silva visibly deflates and David feels like he’s missed something. Before he can double back, his phone rings and Pepe’s number flashes up.

 

“I have to take this. I’ll see you around though?”

 

He’s gone before Silva can reply, phone between his shoulder and ear as he rummages through his pockets for his key card to get back into the building. Silva watches him go, feeling relieved and disappointed. On one hand, the prospect of spending more time with David is exciting, particularly after the afternoon spent talking (and maybe flirting?); however the idea of David meeting his group of high-energy and sometimes terrifying friends and co-workers makes him anxious just thinking about it. Although he loves them, Silva fears they might not necessarily be something that serious, sophisticated David is ready for. He decides that maybe David’s polite bailing is probably for the best, although he can’t help but feeling a little let down.

 

 

\---

 

 

“Pepe, what do you want?”

 

“Hey to you too Guaje, how are you? I’m doing great, so are my kids, thanks for asking.” Pepe replies. “But seriously, come see me in my office. Now. Gotta run.”

 

David makes his way through the lobby (waving to an ecstatic Santi as he passes) and into the corridor of offices, knocking on Pepe’s door, who motions him in through the window. David lets himself in and sits down as Pepe hangs up.

 

“So, Guaje, good news and bad news. Good news is, I’ve done some digging, and Silva is single,” Pepe starts with a smile, “But… Bad news is your dad is coming in a couple weeks. But Silva’s cute hey?”

 

David is silent for a second before putting his head in his hands. “For fuck’s sake.”

 

 

\---

 

 

After Pepe’s repeated promises to run interference when Mr. Villa Senior shows up, David feels slightly less nauseous as he leaves the office and heads back to his room for some TV and an early night.

 

He’s ready to order himself into a room service food coma to feel a little better about the impending visit when his phone chirps at him. His heart skips a beat until he realizes Silva doesn’t have his number. It’s a Facebook friend request from Chori because of course it is.

 

He accepts it quickly and tries to go back to the reality show playing on the flatscreen but can’t now that Silva’s in his head. He thinks back to sitting next to him and trading easy conversation and looks out of the sides of their eyes. He thinks back to a genuine smile growing slowly across Silva’s face and figures _screw it, I’m going to be unhappy enough in a couple of weeks_.

 

 

\---

 

 

Silva’s phone chirps on the nightstand with a text from an unknown number.

 

\- _Hey, it’s David Villa. If it’s still okay with you and your friends, I’d love to join you tomorrow_

 

 

\---

 

 

David smiles as his phone indicates a reply.

 

\- _Hey cutie, can’t wait ;) xoxo_

 

and then again right after

 

\- _Sorry, idiot Chori stole my phone and held it away from me with his stupid long arms. Sounds good about tomorrow. We’ll meet you by the back gate at 10:30_

 

 

\---

 

 

Silva gives a giggling Chori another smack on the back of his head but can’t swallow his smile as his phone dings again.

 

\- _Thanks. See you then, cutie_.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from Skip to the Good Bit by Rizzle Kicks
> 
> also: I've been getting some anonymous messages on my tumblr which is sort of weird because it's not connected to this account in any way really. Anyways, if anything in the story is offensive to anyone or you feel like I'm ripping off your or someone else's work, I'm really sorry and I'd love to discuss it with you and try to fix it! None of that has ever been my intention. I can stop writing and delete all this if that's what the most fair course of action is, but also calling me names maybe isn't the way to go about this.
> 
> If anyone can shed some light on this situation, I'd appreciate it because I really don't want for anyone to be upset or angry but I am pretty confused


	4. The city's always heavy on my mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for sticking with it!
> 
> I'm playing pretty fast and loose with ages and timelines but it is what it is

“So. I’m going out tonight. With some of your staff I guess. You know, Navas and Joe and James. Probably those guys from the kitchen too-“ David starts in between bites of the muffins Pepe has grabbed from the kitchen before they start their rounds for the day.

 

“Cesc and Geri. Those are two names you’re going to want to learn as soon as possible or you’re going to get yourself in trouble that I will have no desire to bail you out of,” Pepe cuts in with a sly smile and David winces, having no trouble believing him on either count. Pepe continues, undaunted.  
“Your pathetic attempt at playing cool is not fooling me either. Did you just forget to mention Silvita would be there too? Also, really, do not insult me. I already knew all of this.”

 

David figures he probably should have guessed. Behind the friendly smiles and easy charm, Pepe’s staff all seem to be _wicked_ gossips. “Well yeah. I don’t see how any of this is your business though” David grumbles.

 

Pepe pokes him in the side and his grin edges into ominous territory as they wait for the elevator down to the main floor.

 

“You’re in my house here kid. Everything is my business. I’m hearing all kinds of stories!”

 

Despite the hotel bearing his name, David knows better than to contradict Pepe, if only to avoid another full day of teasing from one of the only familiar faces on the island. They step into the elevator and Pepe punches the button as David stares at his shoes and holds off as long as he can before finally giving in to the temptation to ask.

 

“Good things only I hope?” He tries to play it off as nonchalant but the look Pepe gives him shows he isn’t fooling anyone.

 

“So far. I know it’s early yet, but for what it’s worth, he’s a really good kid. He’s a local from a good family and it’s been rough at times on the island. All the locals took a hit when Spain did with the recession and tourism dropping, but he’s tough and we all love him here. I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but just tread carefully okay?”

 

David is instantly resentful and glowers up at his significantly taller companion. “For God’s sake Pepe I’ve been here three days, I don’t even know the kid.” The corners of Pepe’s mouth lift at _Guaje_ calling someone else a kid, but he lets it slide as David continues. “This whole situation started with a huge misunderstanding and it’s getting blown out of proportion. It’s not like that.”

 

The elevator dings and as the exit into the lobby, Pepe puts his hand on David’s arm and stops him. “So you didn’t spend a day getting drunk and eyeing him up? He wasn't still in your room four hours and a meal later? No way you ran out on me after work yesterday without catching up to go sit with him in the sun, despite the fact you bitched about your sunburn for six hours leading up to it? And you aren’t planning on going to a nightclub, which I know for a fact is something you hate?” Pepe’s tone is teasing but his steady eye contact and the set of his mouth warn David that he’s dead serious.

 

David looks away.

 

Pepe sighs. “Look Guaje. It’s your vacation, and you’re a big boy. You’re allowed to do things that make you happy, you know that right?”

 

“I know.”

 

Pepe waits until David meets his eyes again. “I’m not certain you do. All I’m saying is go for it if you want, but be careful.” David nods once, feeling very much like the thirteen-year-old he was in the early days of their relationship. Pepe studies his face intently for a moment. Having apparently found what he was looking for, Pepe smacks him heartily on the back.

 

“What are you waiting for then? Don’t think you can run anything just loitering in my lobby. Move it, we’ve got shit to do.”

 

David gives Pepe a small smile, appreciating not for the first time his unflappable demeanor and perceptiveness as he follows him past Santi (after the now-customary enthusiastic hug) to accounting where they plan on starting their lessons today.

 

 

\---

 

 

Silva takes advantage of his day off by sleeping in until almost noon then making his way to the snack kiosk to steal a handful of fruit. Mata makes only the most cursory of protests before biting into an apple himself as he and Silva share a conspiratory smile. Silva makes his way across the property and down the sandy path leading to the beach. He smiles to himself as the mixture of mangled Spanish and scattered English expletives grows louder until the little hut on the beach that houses the surfboard rentals appears on the horizon.

 

Silva greets Joe and James and waves to the tourists in the middle of a dry land lesson before climbing over the counter. He leaves his bag of stolen fruit as a peace offering on the stool by the till and lifts a key from a hook under the countertop. His own board sits in a rack on the wall and the instructors never mind him borrowing storage space. After returning the key, Silva tucks his board under his arm and walks a little ways up the beach until he’s sure he won’t be distracting the group session. He takes a moment to breathe in the salty air and ride out the rush of homesicknesses before paddling out the chase waves of a more enjoyable variety.

 

Here, he can pass entire afternoons lost in his thoughts, interrupted only by the occasional shout from Joe about showing off or genuinely helpful pointer from James. As far as homes go, Silva thinks as he looks at the sun and the sand and the sea, it could certainly be worse.

 

 

\---

 

 

 

David looks longingly out the window at the blazing sun reflecting off the ocean. He can just make out some figures on the beach and maybe a couple in the water when a polite cough pulls him back into the conversation. It’s not that Busquets (“please, call me Sergio”) is so terrible, it’s just that David has spent the last ten years being groomed for this, and nothing said in the neat, air-conditioned office is new to him.

 

“Sorry,” David apologizes quickly, “you were saying?”

 

Busquets gives him a knowing smile. “I’d say that’s about it for here today. Closer to the end of the month there will be more information to show you when all the payroll and billing happens, but as of now there’s nothing too pressing.”

 

David thanks him genuinely as they leave, both for the comprehensive presentation and the mercy shown.

 

“Alright tyrant, now what? What next horrible punishment do you have in store fore me, courtesy of the Mr. Villa Senior?” David deadpans once they’re out of earshot.

 

“First of all, let’s scale back the dramatics shall we? Your dad is still my boss, and Busquets is a good guy. He made that as painless as possible.”

 

David grumbles in some sort of agreement and Pepe flicks his ear.

 

“If you’re going to be cranky like this, we might as well call it quits for the day. Besides, with a face like that, you might need a while to get pretty for tonight!” Pepe teases, drawing a begrudging smile out of David.

 

“Thanks, I think. I’m gonna head down to the beach for a bit first. Speaking of tonight though, you don’t have any advice on like… What to expect, do you?”

 

Pepe guffaws in a not altogether sophisticated way. “Guaje, I have about a million kids. The last time I knew what was cool was ten years ago and the last time I went clubbing was even before that.”

 

“Fair enough, forget I asked. I’m not sure what I expected. I mean, you must’ve been around when Spain colonized these islands.”

 

David receives a smack on the back of the head with a sheaf of rolled up documents before taking off down the hallways.

 

“You better run you little shit!” Pepe calls at his retreating back.

 

 

\---

 

 

Silva’s exhausted after hours of surfing, but can’t seem to drag himself out of the ocean quite yet. A couple more minutes of aimless floating though, and he realizes the sun is starting to get low in the sky and James and Joe have begun packing away the beach hut. Silva embarks on a lazy paddle back to the beach.

 

Once he’s assured James and Joe he’ll lock up, he waves them off to spend a few more minutes with real sand under his feet as they turn up the path back to their room. He’s examining his board and contemplating re-waxing it soon when the portion of beach next to him shifts a little.

 

David drops himself onto the sand next to him but doesn’t say anything in greeting, instead content to stare out over the horizon. Silva stills his hands and follows David’s gaze and a comfortable silence settles over them. After a while, David speaks up.

 

“This is the third time I’ve been to Las Palmas. I’ve never actually made it to the beach before today.”

 

Silva looks at him incredulously.

 

“I can very much speak to the quality of the pools, and now the lifeguards,” he continues, shooting Silva a cheeky smile, “but it just never occurred to me to come down here.”

 

A moment passes before Silva responds, still looking out over the ocean.

“I’m not actually from Las Palmas. I grew up in Arguineguín, just under an hour’s drive on the other side of the island. I was basically raised on the beach” he says with a slight smile.

 

David realizes he doesn’t know anything about Silva aside from the superficial and tucks this tidbit away.

 

“Do you go home often?” He gently prompts.

 

Silva’s smile turns a little sad when he shakes his head. “Not as often as I’d like.” He clears his throat and redirects. “So where’s home for you, _Guaje_?”

 

David groans. “Damnit Pepe. I guess it’s payback for Chori, _Enano_." Silva rolls his eyes. "And as far as home goes, depends on your definition. I was born in Asturias but I’ve moved around with my dad a lot. Aragon, Valencia, and then Barcelona for school. I’m off to Madrid for grad school in the fall. So all over the place. Right now though, here.”

 

Silva seems pleased with this answer and volunteers another piece of his own life. “I’m trying to get my brother up here for a bit. He’d like it I think, the waves are better and it’s important he sees the world is bigger than our neighbourhood, even if it’s just a trip up the island. He’s got his own friends back home though, and I guess he’ll probably be working here by next summer so there’s no real rush. Plus it can be kind of hard to get around the island.”

 

“I have two sisters, Elsa and Aide,” David says, trying to preserve the fragile peace, “although I couldn’t say for certain where they are right now. Ibiza? Or maybe Mallorca. Certainly not anything that compares to this bustling metropolis.” The jibe is delivered without venom and Silva snorts a little.

 

“Ibiza has nothing on _La Furia Roja_ Guaje, just you wait. It feels like there are just as many drunken tourists there as anywhere else in the world.” David shudders internally as Silva continues. “I have a sister too. You might meet her actually, she’ll be back for a couple weeks at the end of the summer in between semesters at school and usually Pepe gives her a couple shifts waiting tables.”

 

The automatic lights click on from the hut behind them and Silva takes it as a sign to stand up. David helps him brush the sand off his board and load it into the racks. As Silva goes about checking the doors are all locked, David waits patiently at the edge of the path, gazing out over the water. He takes a deep breath of the salty air and thinks back to their discussion of home. As far as homes go, David thinks as he looks at the setting sun and the sand and the sea, it could certainly be worse.

 

 

\---

 

 

The walk back to the resort as calm and quiet. Silva points out the gate where they’ll meet later, which sends David into a quiet panic as he contemplates being in a room with all the exuberant staff he’s met and then some he hasn’t, as well as the addition of alcohol and darkness into the mix.

 

Silva seems to sense some hesitation and nudges at David’s shoulder gently. “You still in?”

 

This time, David identifies a note of hopefulness and swallows any anxiety he might have. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

 

Silva’s smile turns mischievous as they arrive at the staff residences.

 

“Famous last words!” Silva calls over his shoulder as he disappears through the front door.

 

David isn’t inclined to doubt him.

 

 

\---

 

 

Silva is showered and drying his hair in the bathroom when he catches a glimpse of a pair of laughing eyes in the mirror. He turns around to see Chori giggling to himself and waits until he has composed himself enough to speak.

 

“Getting all dressed up for anyone special?”

 

Silva looks down at his jeans and white t-shirt. He’s still barefoot on the tiled floor. He raises an eyebrow at his roommate’s skin tight pants and shirt with what looks like studs on it. “We can’t all be as effortlessly stylish as you Chori, but even I know better than to go out with my hair still wet. I was covered in sand.”

 

Chori’s grin stretches wider, completely disregarding anything Silva has said. Silva wonders if maybe Chori is picking up on his uncustomary nervous energy -maybe Chori is not such an idiot after all.

 

“For what it’s worth Silvita, you look great. I do have a scarf you could borrow if you wanted…”

 

Silva winces but manages to gracefully decline, knowing that Chori is actually serious in thinking that was a legitimate offer.

 

“No thanks, I wouldn’t want to get too hot and take it off and lose it. Just give me five more minutes and I’m good to head down.”

 

 

\---

 

 

David has tried on almost every shirt he’s brought with him before settling on the first one he pulled on. He gives his khakis and plain blue button-up a final onceover before rolling up the sleeves past his elbows so he looks a little less like someone who spent the entire day going over the hotel’s financial records (the fact that this is true is neither here nor there he decides). After a couple of minutes of nervous fussing with his hair, he finally succumbs to the urge to FaceTime Elsa who laughs at him fondly before assuring him that he looks perfectly acceptable for a beach club and suggests which pair of shoes.

 

Much reassured, David forces himself to wait ten minutes longer in his room so as not to be painfully early. He flips mindlessly through the channels on TV and plays around with his phone, scrolling through Chori’s Facebook profile to kill some time. Most of the photos are of Chori grinning massively or with some variant of his mouth wide open and hands gesticulating wildly until David comes across a few in sequence from an album of some of the resort staff playing pick-up football on the beach.

 

David clicks through these pictures, noting that Geri and Cesc seem to have spent most of the game rolling around in the sand. Even Pepe makes an appearance playing in goal for one side, with the blonde Englishman between the haphazard piles of shoes marking the opposite net. David recognizes various other faces from around the resort, but comes to a stop at one picture in particular. Silva, who comes up to their shoulders, is skipping through tackles from Chori and Busquets with the ball at his feet, smiling a little. David feels as irrational swell of fondness and pride and vows to get invited to the next game.

 

A glance at his watch shows him it is now a reasonable time to head to the meeting spot so long as he goes slowly. He slips his wallet and keycard into his pocket and shuts the door behind him.

 

 

\---

 

On his walk down to the gate, David meets Navas who greets him with a confusingly large smile for someone who has had little interaction with him besides a polite greeting or two.

 

“I’m glad you didn’t wimp out. It’s cool of you to come. Silva’ll be pleased.” Navas is friendly and open and David a little pearl of hope in his chest.

 

“Yeah, looking forward to it. It should be fun right?” David feels uncertain but Navas seems like a safe bet for conversation.

 

“Always fun. Also always very eventful. Hope you brought cash Guaje, because I’m betting the first couple of rounds are gonna be on you!”

 

David does a double-check for his wallet in his pocket, resigned to his fate, when Chori and Silva come into view.

 

Once greetings are exchange, Chori checks his phone and opens the gate.

 

“Cesc and Geri have already been at the bar for an hour so the texts are less than coherent, but I don’t think we’re waiting for anyone else. Let’s head off.”

 

Chori and Navas set about an enthusiastic conversation about the friends they plan on meeting at the bar and sympathetically comparing work schedules for the next morning.

 

David fights a sudden urge to take Silva’s hand, instead tucking his own into his pockets. Silva gives him then a reassuring smile and knocks their shoulders together gently. The group sets off into the night.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretending Chori wears anything other than sweatsuits or tracksuits in real life and Silva and Villa wear anything that doesn't make me cringe with second-hand embarrassment for them.
> 
>  
> 
> title from Don't Make Me Try by Spector


	5. Hair whipped, tight-lipped, I been callin' out for you

The pounding of the bass is audible from well into the street as the group makes their way up to the club, ignoring the moderately-sized line already formed in front of the door. David looks questioningly at Silva and gestures towards his pocket, wondering if the bouncer will expect a sizeable tip before Silva shakes his head and laughs. Chori is already joking with the figure at the entrance who ushers them through without any hesitation. David finds he isn’t surprised.

 

“Our friend Raúl owns the place. He used to run _Las Palmas Reales_ before Iker took over, otherwise I doubt we’d spend so much time at such a tourist trap” Silva explains, his voice coming low and close over the music. David can feel it on his ear and clenches his teeth before he can do anything stupid.

 

Chori, by far the tallest of the group, is already engaged in scanning the room for their friends and obviously finds what he’s looking for, giving a huge wave to someone on the either side of the bar. He grabs Silva’s arm to pull him through the masses in what is obviously a well-practiced routine, Chori’s not-inconsiderable size useful in cutting a path for Silva’s slighter frame. This time, however, Silva snakes an arm out to grasp David’s wrist before he can get lost in the masses.

 

As they cut through the thickest part of the crows, a particularly energetic partygoer glittering under the lights grabs at David, pulling him further into the dance floor with a predatory smile. David turns desperately, disoriented, and catches Silva’s face fall before he turns to follow Chori. Extricating himself as politely but firmly as possible, David shoves his way through a sea of writhing bodies before slipping his hand into Silva’s and giving it a gentle squeeze. Silva’s pleased look at the contact causes a sensation in David’s chest he won’t acknowledge until he’s had at least a few drinks.

 

Upon reaching the intended booth, Chori immediately reaches across the table and pulling a glass out of Cesc’s hand and drains it. Cesc’s outraged sputtering is cut off by Chori who, after wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, declares “thanks for waiting, asshole.”

 

Geri answers for a sulking Cesc, absently patting the top of his head. “You guys weren’t coming until way later and we got bored waiting. Plus, we kind of forgot you were coming, so.”

 

From what David has already observed of both Cesc and Geri, this seems to be unsurprising. Chori nods like he already knew this.

 

“Well, we’re all square now. Guys, meet David. He’s Villa’s kid but so far doesn’t seem awful, and Pepe says we have to be nice. First round’s on him anyways.”

 

Navas gives David a knowing look before sliding into the booth next to a long-haired, toothy man wearing awfully red pants. He introduces himself as Sergio before giving Silva a grin complete with waggling eyebrows. Even under the flashing lights, David detects a blush as Silva drops his hand.

 

The round of introductions continues, with a freckled Fernando giving him a smile, dark-haired Álvaro a nod, and a distinctly rumpled looking Iker reaching across the table to shake his hand. Chori, Cesc, and Geri make their way to the bar with David’s credit card in hand to start a tab, leaving room for Silva and David in the booth.

 

David looks around the club for a few minutes, only really knowing Silva who is engaged in a conversation with Sergio who is in the middle of recounting a story from his shift that day. He startles a little when Iker taps his hand to get his attention.

 

“Pepe mentioned this wasn’t really your scene” he says kindly.

 

David laughs a little self-consciously. “No, that’s definitely true. But I’m on vacation, so I figured a night out is probably good for me.”

 

“I feel you,” Iker responds, “I’m getting too old for this. I’m mostly here to keep these idiots out of trouble. From what Pepe said though, you’re not just here to lie by the pool?”

 

“Pepe has a lot to say as usual I guess. No, I’m here to get really familiar with daily operations, so it’s a working holiday certainly, but what my dad doesn't know can’t hurt him.”

 

Iker raises his bottle to David. “I’ll drink to that!”

 

“Speaking of drinks” David notes wryly as Chori and his sidekicks reappear, laden with what looks like cocktails in alarmingly fluorescent shades.

 

“You have officially the most embarrassing bill open for a man in _La Roja_ history!” Cesc proclaims with an air of smugness. No one seems the least bit reluctant to reach for a drink with an umbrella or bit of fruit around the rim to David’s surprise, but as he takes a sip of the green cocktail in his hand, he understands. It’s sickly sweet, but with a very noticeably high alcohol content. It’s no wonder Álvaro seems to be drooling a little on Chori’s shoulder.

 

One round becomes two and then five and pretty soon David is feeling more than slightly tipsy. Most of their party has moved to the dance floor, coming back to the booth sporadically for another drink or to pull someone else out with them. Even Silva lets himself be dragged away reluctantly, a little blurry around the edges but smiling contentedly under Geri’s arm. David watches him leave having unequivocally denied every request the join them, content to sit and chat with Iker. Iker’s knowledge and experience in the hotel industry make for amusing stories and genuinely good advice, regardless of their collective blood alcohol, and David finds himself genuinely enjoying his night.

 

 

\---

 

 

Silva pushes his slightly sweaty hair out of his eyes and makes his way over to the bar, signaling at Gúti behind the counter for a glass of water in a surprisingly coherent attempt to sober up a little. The bartender greets him with a smile and slides a glass across the bar. Silva takes a seat to catch his breath and steady himself for a moment and Gúti makes his way over once the rush has lulled a little.

 

“Who’s over there chatting up San Iker?” the bartender asks with a leer.

 

Silva follows his line of sight to the two dark heads looking admittedly cozy, heads close to be heard over the noise. He takes a long pull of his water and averts his eyes back to the dance floor where Geri is throwing some pretty erratic shapes.

 

“Could it be that this is the mysterious Guaje that I have heard so much about? The hotel tycoon who has captured our favourite lifeguard’s heart?”

 

Silva’s head snaps up to meet Gúti’s laughing eyes. “Does everyone know?”

 

Gúti takes pity on him as he refills Silva’s glass. “No, no, don’t worry Silvita, I'm just messing with you. Chori just told me when he was here earlier. He’s certainly cute though, I’m impressed.”

 

“Iker seems to think so” Silva grumbles, mostly to himself.

 

Gúti rolls his eyes and gives Silva a look meaning he is being completely irrational but is signaled away by another customer before he can say anything. Silva sits feeling sorry for himself in the morose way that only a truly wasted person can when he feels a presence slide onto the barstool next to him.

 

“Hola” says a voice in accented Spanish. Silva sees a telling sunburn and notes the pair of sunglasses tucked into the collar of his shirt. _What kind of person brings sunglasses into a nightclub_ he thinks dispassionately. With a final glance at Iker and David (no doubt deep in conversation about flawless income statements. Iker probably understood amortization the first time it was explained to him), Silva musters up a smile that he hopes looks intriguing instead of vague. “Hola” he replies.

 

“Can I buy you a drink?” the tourist asks, giving Silva an unsubtle once-over.

 

Silva tries not the think of darker hair and darker eyes and replies.

 

“I don't see why not.”

 

 

\---

 

 

David scans the dance floor out of the corner of his eye again, still unable to locate Silva. Having sobered up over the past hour or so, he’s contemplating heading home and hopeful he can find someone from the _Villa Las Palmas_ to help him find his way back. Cesc is across the booth, head partially in Geri’s lap as he snores peacefully. Geri, although conscious, does not look likely to move in the near future. Chori’s stamina is impressive if nothing else, still dancing exuberantly with anyone willing, but Silva is nowhere to be found.

 

Iker notices his unsubtle search and directs his attention to the bar, where a small frame is leaning heavily on the countertop. An unfamiliar figure next to him looks to be speaking intently although Silva appears uninterested. David is completely absorbed in watching the interaction unfold until Iker chuckles.

 

“I’m going to catch a cab home. It’s way too late for me already and I think my wife is waiting up. It’s been nice to meet you though, and give me a call if there’s anything you need!” As Iker gets up to leave, he turns back and, with a nod in Silva’s direction, adds “you should probably grab him. He’s pretty drunk.”

 

David weighs the benefits and risks of interfering until he sees Silva jerkily pull his hand out of his companion’s grasp. He finds himself shoving his way to the bar before the man moves a second time.

 

The bartender is on his way over but David beats him to it, making clear on no uncertain terms the stranger is not welcome with a threatening glower. Gúti seems grateful to have a relatively sober acquaintance to hand Silva off to. David settles his tab (wincing a little at the final figures but figuring he’s definitely made a fair few friends) and slings his arm around Silva’s waist.

 

On his part, Silva looks delighted to see him, smile stretching wide and crinkling his eyes at the corners, face uncharacteristically open. Having tired quickly of his previous company, Silva is relieved and pleased to find a familiar face and clings firmly to David as he leads them out into the night.

 

The music bleeds weakly into the street as they leave and Silva hums along under his breath long after the last notes disappear. The walk home is mostly quiet after that and Silva stays pressed close. David tells himself it’s from the cold and how much Silva has had to drink, but can’t deny the solid warmth at his side is comfortable and a tiny bit thrilling.

 

When the hotel comes into view, Silva slides his hand into David’s, grip casual, unlike the one born out of necessity earlier. David feels a smile grow before sneaking a glance sideways to see one matching his own on Silva’s face.

 

All too soon they near the gate to the staff housing and as David composes himself, searching for something appropriate or charming to say, he finds himself crowded against the fence. All of a sudden, he’s kissing Silva, who has the fingers of one hand tangled in the hair at the base of his neck and the other splayed across David’s side, edging under the fabric of his shirt. Instantly, David gathers Silva up in his arms, pressing him close enough to feel his chest rise and fall rapidly. Silva pulls back and smiles shyly before licking slowly into David’s mouth and it is everything David had hoped for. Silva is warm and sweet and playful and feels so terribly _right_ under his hands and David is so, so lost.

 

Silva sucks a series of kisses down David’s jaw and neck and before reaching up to whisper in his ear.

 

“Take me home Guaje.”

 

David groans and pulls Silva’s lips back to his own, kissing him deeply and reveling in the weight and feel and taste of Silva when he realizes he recognizes the faint sweetness leftover from not long ago. Instantly, David breaks the kiss and moves to gently extricate Silva’s hands from his hair. Silva wavers unsteadily on his feet.

 

“Let’s just get you inside okay?” He says instead.

 

Silva shakes his head. “Not here, Chori’ll come home. Your room?” He’s slurring slightly and David feels sick to his stomach.

 

David brushes a few strands out of Silva’s eyes. “I don’t think so. Do you have your keys? I’ll help you get inside.”

 

He watches as comprehension dawns on Silva, hurt flashing across his face before he can school his features into something infinitely cooler.

 

“I don’t need your fucking help, _Villa_. I’m fine on my own” he practically spits. David motions to take the key from his shaky hand but Silva turns around and shoves him away, stumbling slightly.

 

“You don’t have to fucking save me all the time. I didn’t ask you to!” Silva scoffs at him, still struggling with the lock.

 

It’s late and David is cranky and his mind is still bleary with _want_ for the frustrating figure in front of him and days of biting his tongue and he is still a little drunk so he doesn’t think before responding.

 

“Yeah obviously," he says, gesturing at the key. And then, because David is resigned to making mistakes tonight, he continues. "It didn’t look that way at the bar.”

 

Silva looks stricken before replying quietly.

 

“I didn’t think you noticed. You looked pretty busy with _Iker_.” Even in his drunken state, Silva knows he’s being unreasonable. Iker is a friend, a very married one at that, but Silva is so sick of half-moments and mixed signals. The key finally turns in the lock but before he turns to go, Silva addresses David one last time.

 

“And for the record, _you_ have been coming onto _me_. Whatever though. I’m not just someone to be strung along because you can. I’m not here for you to play with, no matter what you think. And I don't fucking need you.”

 

With that, Silva spits on the ground them disappears through the gate, out of sight before David can organize his thoughts and convince Silva to stop, to stay, to _listen_.

 

Silva can hear David kick the fence from inside the building. He’s throws up in the sink and falls asleep curled up on the bathroom floor until Chori gets home and guides him to bed.

 

 

\---

 

 

David showers off the scent of smoke and sweat and spilled drinks and the feeling of Silva’s hands on his bare skin. He brushes his teeth to get rid of the aborted kisses and climbs into bed, tired down to his bones.

 

By the time the sun starts to rise outside his window, David has tossed and turned all night, sleeping fitfully and staring at the ceiling. He replays the moments at the gate over and over again with a mixture of relief at his decision but regret at how he handled it. The awful, wounded look in Silva’s eyes remains in his mind until the rising sun arrives, as well as the vague outline of a plan. He finally falls asleep for the last couple of hours.

 

When his alarm goes off shortly before 8 the next morning, David wakes feeling considerably more refreshed than he expected to be. Steeling himself, he dials his cell and waits until a woman picks up on the other end of the line. A few more minutes and his intended target picks up.

 

Unconsciously, David stands up straighter and adjusts his shirt.

 

“Hey, Dad. It’s me. I have a favour to ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes
> 
> title from Rumble and Sway by Jamie N Commons


	6. And there are times I know when I will have to chase you

Silva wakes up with a pounding headache, a sour taste in his mouth, and mercifully, a glass of water on the table by his bed. A glance at his phone has him appreciating Chori all the more as it is fully charged, and the time flashing on the screen means Chori was up and out for his shift uncharacteristically silently.

 

He scrolls idly through his messages for a moment, noticing a handful of missed calls from David and deleting them with a sick sense of finality. A hot rush of shame creeps over him as he remembers bits and pieces of the night, culminating in the ugly confrontation at the gate. Humiliation from the utter rejection sits heavy in his stomach until it gives way to genuine nausea and Silva staggers out of bed to empty the last remnants of _La Furia Roja_ from his stomach.

 

Showered, changed, and miserable, Silva feels a crushing homesickness again and sits back against the pillows on his bed and dials his cell. A woman’s voice on the other end picks up and he hears muffled shouting in the background before the speaker addresses him.

 

Unconsciously, Silva smiles and feels some of the tension leave his shoulders.

 

 

“Hey Mum, it’s me. Tell me about home.”

 

 

\---

 

 

Satisfied with the plan set in motion, David heads down to the elevator to catch his usual breakfast in the kitchen with the rest of the staff starting their shifts. He wonders idly at the plans Pepe has for the day as he picks his way through the usual morning rush in the restaurant but it isn’t until he is stonewalled by blank-faced Pedro that he remembers a distinct lack of euphoric Santi-greeting on his journey through the lobby.

 

His musings are cut short when he pushes into the kitchen as his normally boisterous greeting from Cesc and Geri is conspicuously missing. Instead, David is met with radio silence as the kitchen is uncustomarily quiet. Puyi greets him with a perfunctory nod and Cesc looks at him for a moment before giving him a polite almost-smile. Geri cuffs him on the ear and mutters something furiously. Cesc shrugs a little helplessly and David assumes that his best chance of a breakfast comes from the smaller Catalan.

 

“Hi Cesc, how are you feeling?” David starts, as pleasantly as he can manage in the tense circumstances. He can sense the eyes and ears of the kitchen on him.

 

Cesc opens his mouth to reply but Geri cuts him off with a swift shake of his head. Cesc studies the bowl he’s mixing, stirring furiously long past the point of necessity.

  

David refuses to give in to the silent pressure to just leave the kitchen because, he reasons, all he did was refuse to take advantage of a spectacularly drunk Silva. The way Geri is currently regarding him, however, implies otherwise. Once again astonished on the speed at which news travels in the resort community, David presses on.

 

“If it’s not too much hassle, I’d love some pancakes.” David picks a breakfast food at random as he sees Cesc stirring the bowl of batter, and knowing they’re a quick and easy choice.

 

Cesc looks to Gerard again, who tightens his mouth and shakes his head for a second time.

 

“Sorry Dav – Villa. Sorry Villa. We’re, um, we’re out of pancakes.”

 

David looks pointedly at the bowl in Cesc’s hands and the pancakes bubbling on the cooktop in front of him. Cesc blushes furiously but keeps his mouth shut.

 

David nods slightly, understanding the game. “That’s fine then, can I grab a couple eggs instead?”

 

Cesc looks miserable now, and focuses his eyes on the floor in front of his trainers. “We’re out of eggs too.”

 

David simply stands for a moment, completely at a loss of what to do next. Gerard doesn’t even pretend he isn’t holding an industrial sized carton of eggs as he starts to prepare an order Andres the waiter has just keyed in. Showing off a little, he cracks two eggs with one hand and tosses the shells into the garbage bin inches away from David.

 

He finally speaks, meeting David’s eyes for the first time and says, free of inflection, “you’re in the way. There’s oatmeal in the warming dish over there.”

 

David swallows and nods, dumbstruck and unwilling to make the situation any more uncomfortable than it already is. As he makes his way over to the decidedly unappealing vat of porridge, he finds himself being studied under the watchful eyes of one of the head waiters. _Xavi_ , he remembers.

 

Xavi considers him for a moment before pressing a plate of fresh fruit into his hands.

 

“Chori can exaggerate,” the waiter says, “but you had better fix this if you ever want a real breakfast again.”

 

David nods gratefully, thankful for both the fruit and the indication as to where the root of the story materialized, and takes his breakfast to go. Just before the door closes behind him, he hears the kitchen return to its usual cheerful chaos. Geri starts to sing again and a last glace over David’s shoulder shows a distinctly relieved-looking Cesc leaning against the counter, shaking his head.

 

\---

 

 

Silva is more than content to lie in bed until his afternoon shift, wallowing in self-pity and homesickness until his growling stomach forces him vertical. His trek across the compound to the kitchen is peppered with bizarrely cheerful greetings from all the staff he encounters and many offers to hang out later. Silva isn’t entirely clear on exactly as to why, but he strongly suspects Chori had something to do with it. He shrugs off the unusual attention and makes his way to the kitchen as quickly as possible.

 

Once inside, even Carles comes over and drapes an arm around his shoulders to inquire about Silva’s current state. Although he appreciates his concern, Silva wants nothing better than to be treated normally so he can go back to pretending nothing had ever happened.

 

Geri and Cesc hand him a plate piled high with pancakes and eggs and bacon and Silva heads to the staffroom to make his way through it.

 

Inside, Xavi is taking his break, quietly reading a newspaper when Silva walks in. Xavi glances at Silva's laden plate and smiles a little before returning to his paper. Silva has always found Xavi a little intimidating; he’s the model employee and the embodiment of professionalism all _Villa Las Palmas_ employees are supposed to aspire to be, so when Xavi clears his throat to address him, Silva starts a little.

 

“The gave your friend David a tough time this morning,” he remarks, folding his newpaper neatly.

 

Silva feels a flash of petty happiness before he remembers the maturity of his current dining companion. He settles for a level “oh.”

 

Xavi gives Silva the firm impression of seeing right through him. “I’m not saying he didn’t deserve it,” Xavi starts fairly, “but I’m not sure anyone has all the facts. It might be wise to call off your friends before they get themselves into too much trouble. He _is_ the boss.”

  

Silva shrugs a little and curses Xavi’s reasonableness before curiosity gets the better of him.

 

“What facts do you have?”

 

Xavi looks uncomfortable for the first time in the conversation as he tries to approach the situation diplomatically.

 

“Chori came into the kitchen this morning and mentioned that David had mistreated you. Romantically. He relayed that you were very upset, and that it was David who was at fault. That’s the gist of it anyways.”

 

They both know that there is no way Chori had phrased anything quite so delicately.

 

“Also,” Xavi continues, “I would doubt that the kitchen was Chori’s first or last stop on his tirade of sorts. I just thought you might like to be made aware of this. In case there has been any exaggeration or embellishment.”

 

On one hand, Silva can’t help but be pleased that some sort of revenge is being exacted upon David after their fight, but Silva is not vindictive by nature, nor does he really want the situation to become more dramatic or public than it is already.

 

“I’ll try to sort this out” he mumbles finally.

 

Xavi smiles serenely and returns to his newspaper.

 

 

\---

 

 

“Fucking hell Guaje, I had this conversation with you not 24 hours ago” Pepe groans.

 

“Is it strictly necessary or appropriate you know this much about the personal lives of your employees?” David remarks, feigning casualness but his tone belies the desperation he feels.

 

“It is necessary for me to be aware of anything that compromises the well being of my staff which can in turn compromise their job performance. Particularly if it is because of you, you complete idiot.” Pepe retorts, most of the venom replaced with disappointment.

 

Visibly deflating, David sighs. “I know, Pepe. I screwed up, but I am trying to fix it.”

 

“At least there’s that” Pepe admits. “What actually happened? All I heard from Chori was that you were a complete ass to Silva, which is pretty stupid even for you, especially considering how you’ve been mooning over him since you got here.”

 

“I wasn’t an ass to him! At least, I didn’t mean to be. He was just really drunk, I mean falling down drunk, and wanted to… You know. Come to my room. I said no though! I mean, I offered to get him to his own bed… I just didn’t feel good about it. He was practically passing out. But then he got mad, and then I got mad, and it just sort of blew up from there.”

 

Pepe nods, appeased. “Well, it could certainly be worse. For what it’s worth, that sounds kind of decent of you. Before the you being a dick part, but that’s something you’ve needed to work on for ages.” Pepe lazily ducks the paper clip David tosses at his head. “Just because you were being a gentleman doesn’t mean he isn’t embarrassed though. Have you talked to him? Explained? Apologized?”

 

“I’m going to look for him after I’m done with you today. He’s on the afternoon shift at the pool again so at least I know where he’ll be.”

 

Pepe nods thoughtfully. “You’re pretty useless to me hungover anyways. I’m willing to call it a day if you promise you’re going to go make up with my best lifeguard. I can work on getting Chori to back off if you want.”

 

David agrees gratefully on both counts and heads out of the office, this time catching a hesitant wave from a discreetly eavesdropping Santi. David figures at least this way Santi can start to spread another side of the story.

 

 

\---

 

 

As he makes his way to the pool, David notices his palms are suddenly a little sweaty and his mouth a little dry. He makes a detour past the snack stand on one side of the courtyard where Juan is currently rearranging baskets of chips. David asks for a bottle of water and Juan reaches into the cooler and pulls one out. As David turns to leave, Juan holds a hand out, palm up.

 

“That will be six dollars, sir.”

 

David looks at the price list written in neat, colourful chalk on the wall behind Juan.

 

“It says there that water is 3.50$ and you’ve never let me pay for anything before?”

 

Juan’s tranquil smile remains fixed as he repeats himself.

 

“That will be six dollars, sir.”

 

David rummages through his pockets for loose bills, strangely terrified of the cherubic figure in front of him.

 

“For God’s sake Juan, don’t be ridiculous” a voice behind him chastens.

 

Straightening instantly, David turns around to see a sunglasses-clad Silva, arms crossed and glowering at the snack stand operator. Juan shrugs impishly and gets back to his architectural marvel of granola bars. David clears his throat awkwardly.

 

“Look. Silva, I’ve been meaning to talk to you. I called you like a bunch of times this morning-“

 

Silva cuts him off firmly. “I’m working. And there’s nothing to talk about. It’s fine, really. Let’s just forget about it.”

 

David shakes his head quickly. “No, no. That’s not what I want. Please, I want to explain myself. I made a mistake and I was rude and I’m sorry. I’d really like to talk to you after your shift ends. Can I meet you somewhere?”

 

Silva gives him a tight smile. “Sorry Guaje. Can’t always get what you want I guess.” David flinches.

 

“I’ll be here when you get off!” He calls at Silva’s retreating back. Silva gives a vague wave before disappearing into the crowd of vacationers. David curses to himself, and catches Juan smiling peacefully at him behind an artfully stacked tower of juice boxes.

 

“His shift ends at 5.”

 

David slides the six dollars across the counter.

 

 

\---

 

 

Silva waits until Navas has his shift under control before heading to the alcove where his locker is. As his cubbyhole comes into view, so to does a figure leaning in front of it. Silva curses David’s determination but can’t suppress the little thrill he gets in his stomach upon seeing him.

 

The silence stretches for a second until David says “for a bit I thought I had missed you.”

 

“Guess not” Silva replies shortly.

 

“Please. Just give me five minutes.” David realizes he is not too good to beg.

 

After an almost-imperceptible huff then nod from Silva, David draws a deep breath and begins.

 

“First of all, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you like I’m sure that I did. I want to apologize if I made you feel like I thought you needed me or if you felt I was patronizing because I can assure you, it’s not the case. I’m sure I’m in over my head here and having you show me around and introduce me to your friends has been so kind of you and if my attitude didn’t reflect this, then I am incredibly sorry. I’m also sorry if you felt like I was leading you on or toying with you. I wasn’t. I’m not. I would have- I mean I wanted to- I mean you were just so drunk…”

 

An incredulous look crosses Silva’s face and David continues quickly before Silva can interject.

 

“No I don’t mean that as a criticism of you; you were having fun which is great. I just mean I didn’t want to take advantage of you because I care about you already. You’re important to me and you’re my friend and I’ve already made it pretty clear how I feel about you and I'm willing to prove it.”

 

David pauses, studying Silva’s face for any clues before forging on.

 

“Look I’m not great with words and I’ve been practicing this all afternoon, but what I’d like is to show you. So don’t say anything now, and don’t make any decisions yet, but just think about it, okay?” David takes Silva’s lack of refusal as a positive sign and finishes up in a rush.

 

“I’ve got you something.”

 

A stormy frown starts to collect on Silva's face before David clarifies in a hurry.

 

“It’s not a bribe or anything like that. I just wanted to prove I was listening. It doesn’t come with any obligation, I swear. I just wanted to do something nice. Will you come with me for a minute?”

 

Silva sees the earnest hopefulness on David’s face and already feels his embarrassed anger ebbing away. He nods once and follows a now-smiling David into the lobby.

 

 

\---

 

 

The two men stand and wait in silence for a couple of minute, David checking his watch nervously every few seconds and looking around anxiously. Silva is about to crack and finally ask what they’re waiting for when he spots it. In his delighted surprise, Silva presses a tiny kiss to the side of David’s mouth before darting through the lobby.

 

Upon seeing the brothers greet each other, David finally relaxes, figuring his plan has worked out as well as it possibly could have. He waits until he can catch Silva’s eye (who is still chattering excitedly) and waves goodbye before heading back up to his suite, still exhausted by the night before.

 

Silva beams and returns his wave before going back to speaking rapidly to his grinning younger brother. Nando Silva sends a wave and a smile David’s way as well, a willing co-conspirator in a plan to allegedly cure Silva’s homesickness. Any ulterior motive David may have had, he kept to himself, figuring an account of a fight was not the way to endear himself to Silva’s family.

 

Smiling to himself, David calls for the elevator.

 

 

\---

 

 

David is in bed about to go to sleep when his phone chirps. His lock screen indicates a new message for Silva, and he unlocks his phone eagerly.

 

\- _Thank you Guaje. This was amazing. Meet us for breakfast tomorrow? Nando wants to meet you in person._

 

He can’t help a grin from forming on his face.

 

\- _Only if his brother wants me there_

 

His phone chimes again.

 

\- _He definitely does_

 

\---

 

Nando is still recounting the details of the plan as the brothers get ready for bed in their room in the hotel for the night, from the limousine that picked him up in front of their house in their sleepy little fishing village, to David’s assurance that any room service would be on the house. The teenager excitedly scans the menu while Silva takes a moment to read the reply from David.

 

\- _Call off Chori and the gang and you’ve got yourself a deal_

 

Silva smiles to himself and takes a moment to admire how endearingly sweet and genuinely apologetic David had been, as well as re-evaluate his blurry understandings of the previous night.

 

 _\- I’ll do you one better Guaje._   _You’ve got yourself a date_

 

Silva’s about to congratulate himself for his witty reply when he remembers Nando will be there too. He dashes off another text.

 

\- _Like after. Not a weird sister-wives situation with me and Nando. When he’s gone._

_\- If you still want to, I mean_

 

Silva is still groaning to himself about the mess he’s made when his phone dings

 

\- _I can’t wait_

 

With a relieved huff, Silva tucks his phone back into his pocket and rejoins Nando in debating the merits of a sundae or chocolate cake for dessert.

 

The brothers settle on both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from And If My Heart Should Somehow Stop by James Vincent McMorrow


	7. Runnin' down to the riptide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of your thoughtful and lovely comments. Usually I try to reply individually but I've started to get some really not ideal ones so I'm sorry if I don't get around to replying directly. Anyways, your kind comments are really appreciated and a special thanks to you if you've stuck up for me, it was really unexpected and pretty terrific but also don't worry about it, I'm not sure this is worth getting worked up over in the future

****

Silva wakes to a pair of hands shaking his shoulders and is cursing Chori by name before he’s fully conscious. A hand blearily passed over his face opens his eyes to reveal his snickering younger brother and Silva can’t even be cranky.

 

“Ooooh, who’s Raúl? _Another_ boyfriend? How come all these guys think you’re cool?” Nando jibes in a way that only the most practiced of little brothers can.

 

Silva stretches out in the decidedly luxurious bed and revels in the space he’s unaccustomed to in the staff dorms.

 

“That’s Chori’s actual name. And fuck off, it’s too early for this. Besides, I _am_ cool, dumbass. You’re one to talk though, do you even know who that guy is?” Silva yawns, gesturing to the retro American actor printed on Nando’s shirt. Nando shrugs, undaunted and completely unself-conscious.

 

“It’s _fashion_ hermano, look it up. Now come on, I’m _starving_ and I don’t know how many meals that Villa guy will want us charging to the room.”

 

Silva lets himself be dragged upright by his way-too-enthusiastic-for-this-early companion.

 

“It’s just David; he isn’t so fond of the last name around here. And I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you eating yourself sick off room service.”

 

Nonetheless, he decides to humour his brother. Silva stretches leisurely as he makes his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth and get ready for the morning. As he tugs idly at his hair in the mirror, Nando keeps chatting through the bathroom door.

 

“Don’t think you can bribe me with room service. I want to meet all your friends and hear embarrassing stories about you! And as nice as this _David_ seems, I’m not really down to eat room service in bed with you guys. I texted him to meet us in the lobby and we’ve only got five minutes to get down there!”

 

Silva rolls his eyes at his reflection and resigns himself to bedhead for the rest of the day.

 

“First of all, get the fuck out of my phone cabrón. Second of all, I have work at 10 so I’m not sure what the plan is then. Maybe you can hang out with Pepe or something. He’s good at taking in strays now.”

 

Nando is practically vibrating with energy when Silva opens the door. Silva rummages around his backpack and pulls out a clean t-shirt, this one free of any James Dean motifs.

 

“David didn’t tell you? You’ve got the weekend off to hang out with me! Show me around, introduce me to some nice looking tourists, shower me in affection and compliments, buy me lots of cool stuff. The usual.”

 

Silva doesn’t even dignify this with a response. He tugs on his sunglasses and, after deciding he’d rather be teased about his hat than his unruly hair, tugs a backwards cap over his head.

 

He has no time for a second look as Nando pulls him through the door.

 

 

\---

 

 

David’s lying awake before his alarm starts to buzz. He passes his hand over his face and heads to his closet to get dressed. He notices an unfamiliar twinge in the base of his stomach as he surveys his shirt options and it takes pulling on his second one of the morning for him to realize it’s nervousness.

 

Before he has time to make any sense of this, his phone pings with a confirmation from Silva and instructions to meet in the lobby. David feels the nervous thrill of excitement again as he checks and rechecks his hair then tucks and un-tucks his shirt. He remembers Nando’s easy laugh over the phone and unbridled excitement and chides himself for worrying about the impression he’s about to have on a kid who was won over by the promise of as many hamburgers as he could eat and a couple days of lying in the sun.

 

He gives his head a rueful shake at how all consuming his crush on the Canarian lifeguard has become, this being the second time in the past few days impending plans with Silva has resulted in a pile of discarded shirts on the closet floor.

 

David’s phone chimes again and his stomach sinks for a moment as he imagines it’s a cancellation. Silva is probably back to his right mind and appreciates the gesture but has to politely decline.

 

Grimacing, he forces himself to check the lockscreen where, thankfully, it’s only a message of Pepe waiting for him.

 

\- _Good luck Guaje. Don’t fuck up anymore. I don’t have time to cover up a murder and Chori’s not smart enough to pull it off on his own_

 

Pepe’s strangely menacing message actually works to calm David’s nerves. He slides his phone into his pocket (without dignifying Pepe with a reply) and heads to the elevator. No harm in being early, and there’s only so long David can spend fretting in the mirror.

 

 

\---

 

 

As it turns out, the Silva brothers have beaten him to the lobby. One look at Nando’s excited grin and Silva’s sleepy yawn gives David a hint as to whose eagerness brought this on.

 

David keeps his eyes trained on the pair as he makes his way through the bustling lobby towards the desk where a perky Santi is talking excitedly to grinning Nando, hands moving jauntily as Silva rolls his eyes and shoves Santi’s shoulder. The concierge doubles over laughing at his own joke and it’s obvious it’s at Silva’s expense as he gives only the most begrudging smile, and only upon seeing Nando dissolve into a fit of corresponding giggles.

 

Upon David’s arrival at the counter, Santi’s face lights up and he pulls David in for a hug with a smile that looks slightly sheepish. With handfuls of candy all around and a potentially apologetic pat on the bum for David, Santi shoos the trio away to help a stressed-looking English couple check in.

 

Nando pops a piece of Santi’s bubblegum in his mouth, still smiling. “Now I get why you never come home man!” He says to his older brother with a nudge with his elbow.

 

Silva’s smile falters a little but David steps in before any awkward moments can arise.

 

“So I’ve got us a car booked if you want to go to a restaurant in town?” He offers Nando, expecting the teenager to be excited at the prospect of seeing the city.

 

Nando, however, has other ideas. “No way guaje! I wanna meet all the guys! Silva says he has friends here but I’m doubtful. Lead the way.”

 

David winces a little, at the nickname that’s spreading faster than he would have liked and also at the change of plans leading him back to the belly of the beast. He’s unsure how well he’ll be received.

 

Silva seems to sense his hesitation and flicks the back of his brother’s ear.

 

“Nando, come on man. You’re his guest here. At least pretend anything mum taught you about manners stuck.”

 

Nando gives David a sheepish grin and corrects himself, telling David he’d love to go into town for breakfast. It’s impressive really; David can barely see the disappointment in his face.

 

“Nah, we’re already here and I’m starving. We can see the city later on if you want.” David concedes.

 

Nando’s beaming face indicates David has scored a couple points, making up for any awkwardness he’ll have to face through the kitchen doors. The grateful smile Silva shoots his way can make up for almost anything.

 

 

\---

 

 

Pedro leaves his meticulous overseeing of the breakfast rush to greet Nando and usher him through the bustling restaurant. The reserved maître d’ is polite and friendly and if Nando thinks this is par for the course, David muses, he is sure to be mistaken. Pedro bids the group good day as he leaves them, with an offer to Nando of a nice table and a free meal if he ever gets bored. Silva and David both laugh at the way Nando’s eyes seem to light up.

 

A moment later though, and Pedro’s quiet presence is pushed far from Nando’s attention span as the group enters the kitchen. Puyi’s roars can be heard over the usual cooking noises, yelling at Geri who seems to be wearing a colander on his head while he and Cesc exchange blows with various utensils. There is an omelette burning, lying abandoned on a cook top.

 

Understanding dawns on Nando’s face as he watches the two line cooks returning to their posts, although only Cesc looks the slightest bit sheepish. Geri slides the omelette onto a plate and picks at it as he starts on a new one, shiny headpiece slightly askew until Puyi relieves him of it, grumbling.

 

“So, this is Cesc and Geri?” Nando asks Silva. Before his older brother can reply, Cesc’s head snaps up, having heard his name. He glances around with his big, dark eyes and David is vaguely aware of some animal in the back of his mind that he has seen in a nature program as a child. Some sort of dog maybe---? His musings are cut off as Cesc snaps his head around and makes an embarrassingly high pitched noise for what should be a grown man.

 

Geri straightens immediately at Cesc’s noise and scans the room to find the focus of the excitement. _Meerkat_ , David remembers, with no small amount of satisfaction, _like in the Disney film_.

 

In a flash, Geri and Cesc have cornered Nando; their promises to focus directed at Puyi seconds before forgotten. Silva looks exasperated as he is shooed away by the two man-children but goes instead in search of breakfast. Puyi intervenes once again to drag Cesc and Geri back to their work stations (having been fetched by a smirking and slightly smug Silva) but they drag Nando into the line with them, continuing to tell him about the time they stole all of Silva’s clothes out of his shower stall or the many hotel-goers bordering on elderly that have taken an uncomfortable shine to Silva.

 

Nando’s face is that of a younger brother with a year’s worth of new ammunition and teasing at hand as the stories continue and as the two cooks sneak him bowls of hashbrowns and the odd waffle. Even Xavi drops by to say hello and offer a polite greeting and warm wishes for his stay. Geri and Cesc manage to keep it together until he’s out of earshot before encouraging Nando to tip his head back as they pipe whipped cream into his mouth.

 

Silva gives them an incredulous look and mumbles something about acting like adults. Geri grins unrepentantly and replies “we’ve got to fatten him up! I remember being 16; I was starving all the time! I never stopped eating.”

 

Silva looks pointedly at the half eaten piece of toast that Geri has somehow tucked into his apron pocket and Geri doesn’t even have the good sense to look embarrassed, instead fishing it out and shoving the rest in his mouth.

 

“Thanks enano, I’d forgotten all about this!” He says through a mouthful of what has to be pretty stale toast.

 

“Speaking of forgotten,” David ventures after hearing his stomach growl loudly, “what are our chances of breakfast?”

 

Cesc slides him a plate across the pass-through, stacked high with more pancakes than David could ever consider. The sheepish grin he receives before Cesc averts his eyes is apology enough, although David wonders when breakfast became such a diplomatic tool. Geri offers him eggs but David declines; the principle is enough.

 

 

David leans against a spare bit of counter, waiting for Nando and Silva’s breakfasts to be ready and sits back to observe the chaos. Silva steals a bite of pancake directly off David’s fork as he’s distracted, and David is momentarily too stunned to notice Nando being smuggled into a spare set of kitchen whites, cuffed three times so obviously having been lifted from Geri’s locker.

 

Puyi has long since given up on trying to corral his line cooks back into order, instead drafting his sous-chef to help him cover the breakfast rush. Valdés rolls his eyes without any real venom but sends the teenager an indulgent smile after a prod from Andrés.

 

When the two plates laden with breakfast foods for the Silva brothers finally appear, Nando opts to eat his perched on the counter next to his two new friends. Silva sticks around in a supervisory capacity, understandably reluctant to leave his teenaged brother under the supervision of people who regularly light stuff on fire, be it accidently or on purpose. David is content to hang around as well; any previous hostilities forgotten as both Cesc and Geri seem determined to apologize with rashers of sausages and bowls of fresh fruit, long after David has forgiven them both.

 

Once all three of them have eaten as much as they can humanly manage, Puyi ushers them out of the kitchen, eager to have the distractions removed from his kitchen. He encourages Nando to stop by whenever he wants to for a snack, preferably not during a meal rush, and Silva can’t help but imagine sending Nando home at least ten pounds heavier. He feels a rush of fondness watching his co-workers and friends fussing over Nando, who is the source of most of his worries.

 

Silva is dragged out of his own head by the object of his musing as Nando asks what they’re doing next.

 

“No chance you’re interested in a nap?” Silva asks, only partly joking.

 

The look Nando gives him is full of adolescent disparagement. Nando picks and easier target and turns to David who is hanging back reluctantly, uncertain if the brothers want to be alone or not.

 

“Heyo Guaje, will you take me surfing?” Nando’s smile is so similar to Silva’s that David replies instantly, regardless of the fact he’s never surfed in his life.

 

“Sure. Why don’t you two grab your trunks and meet me back in the lobby in ten minutes or so?” He checks Silva’s face for approval and gets a fond little smile.

 

Nando’s racing away with a _thanks!_ thrown over his shoulder but Silva hangs back a second.

 

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he starts and David’s face must reflect his uncertainty because Silva hurriedly continues, “I mean both of us would love for you to come but I just don’t want you to feel like you have to in case you have other things you need to be doing.”

 

David gives him a relieved smile.

 

“I’d much rather spend an afternoon with you in the sun than stuck inside looking at the accounting figures. Plus, I’ve always wanted to learn to surf.” This is only half true. He’s wanted to learn to surf since he first saw Silva paddling in to shore the other day, glistening and leanly muscled.

 

Silva’s surprisingly loud guffaw pulls David out of his reverie. “You’ve never surfed?” He asks in disbelief. “Oh man. James and Joe will have a field day with you. I’m so excited to watch this.”

 

With that, Silva sets off after Nando and David feels that he has distinctly lost the upper hand.

 

 

\---

 

 

Their trek to the beach is full of excited chatter from the two brothers, littered with surfing terminology and slang that David doesn’t even try to keep up with. Mata meets them on their path through the courtyard with a bag full of bottles of juice and snacks. The tiny Spaniard holds his hand out to David upon the delivery of the goods, and then waves him away snickering as David warily makes a move to get his wallet out.

 

Upon their arrival at the beach, David watches on as the Silva brothers bicker over sunscreen. Nando is anxious to get out into the surf but Silva demands he pause pause until he is covered to a level Silva deems sufficient. Once Nando has finished grumbling about already having one mother (and Silva has smacked him across the back of the head), the trio continues on to the little hut where James and Joe are inspecting the rack of surfboards.

 

The Englishmen greet them enthusiastically and Nando is quickly pulled into a stilted but animated conversation with Joe about the merits of different shapes of boards. James and David make small talk while Silva goes to grab his board as well as borrow one for Nando.

 

David learns James had begged off _La Furia Roja_ to Skype his girlfriend back home, and Joe’s conspicuous absence can probably be attributed to how disproportionately charming the Spanish girls seem to find him. Joe waggles his eyebrows upon hearing his name, but Silva interrupts them before the conversation can descend into lewdness.

 

“Okay so this is my baby brother and you are a heathen and no longer allowed to speak with him unless it directly involves surfing. Even then, only when absolutely necessary.”

 

Joe gives him a cheeky grin and replies, in a worse accent than usual (which is saying something) “Lo siento, no hablo Español.”

 

Silva rolls his eyes as Joe addresses Nando in passable Spanish.

 

“We’ll take you out tonight and see how the Spanish girls like you.”

 

Silva sprays Joe with his water bottle before shoving a board into Nando’s arms and pulling him off towards the water.

 

 

\---

 

 

After a couple hours, David has learned two things: first, the Silva brothers are graceful and effortless surfers and second, David himself is hopeless. James has been unerringly patient and kind, giving helpful instructions and gentle encouragement. David had practiced paddling and pop-ups for what felt like forever until finally James had been persuaded to let him get anywhere near the water. His first attempt ends with him wiping out spectacularly, resurfacing coughing and sputtering with his usually structured hair hanging in his face like a wet dog. Joe laughs himself sick.

 

Eventually, both Englishmen have to return to shore to prepare for a round of lessons. Nando and Silva follow suit to have a drink of water, having dehydrated themselves being actually impressive. David returns to shore also, understanding it isn’t wise for him to be attempting anything alone.

 

David opens a bottle of juice and takes a seat in the sand next to Nando who attempts to offer encouragement before dissolving into fits of giggles and teasing.

 

“I was better than that when I was 10!” Nando says, jumping to his feet and picking up his board.

 

David grumbles good-naturedly but takes no real offence. Silva looks reluctantly at his brother for a second before turning to David. Before he can say anything, David laughs and says “go. I have tried surfing, and found I much enjoy lying on the beach. It’s fun to watch you guys though. I’m fine here.”

 

Silva gives him an eye-crinkling grin and peck on the cheek before chasing after Nando.

 

David watches the muscles in his back and shoulders flow as he picks up his board and holds his hand over the spot where Silva’s lips had been.

 

 

\---

 

 

Shortly after noon, Alba comes down to the beach carrying take-out boxes full of sandwiches and fresh fruit, courtesy of Pepe. David moves to tip him but Alba laughs it off.

 

“Guaje, we’re all friends now. Plus, seeing you bail again and again is payment enough for me.”

 

“You were here?” David asks, surprised.

 

“No, but we all have a chat group and Joe posted a video. I’m impressed you didn’t retire after that.” Alba heads back to the resort, still laughing. David supposes it solves the mystery of how fast news gets around.

 

The surfers stop for lunch and sit spread out in the shade. Nando half-heartedly ignores Silva’s demands he re-apply sunscreen until Joe physically holds him down while Silva dumps what looks like half a bottle onto his little brother, laughing vindictively. Lunch devolves into payback as Nando grumbles to himself then grabs his water bottle to empty on Silva’s head, dousing James at the same time. War is declared as Joe somehow gets his hands on the hose used for washing the boards at the end of the lessons and soaks Nando in retribution and James just because he can.

 

Silva capitalizes on David’s distraction and smashes a handful of orange segments against his face. David sits shocked for a moment, before scrambling to his feet and taking off after the Canarian in a manner not entirely indicative of someone with a degree in business economics and management.

 

Eventually, Silva is laughing too hard to fully evade David, who tackles him to the sand. They lie there for a second, panting from exertion and then closeness. David can feel Silva’s chest heaving under his own and Silva can see David’s pulse in the hollow of his throat. Silva throws a glance over David’s shoulder at his brother and the Englishmen who are too engaged in some elaborate feud, Nando being picked up and carried down to the water. Silva reaches up and kisses David who tastes like oranges and saltwater.

 

David’s hands immediately come up to frame Silva’s face as he returns the kiss enthusiastically. Silva runs his hand up the side of David’s naked torso and feels a shiver run through the older man’s body. Before either of them can make any further moves, Nando’s shrieking cuts through the air, bringing them both back to the fairly inappropriate reality. David pulls back and smiles against Silva’s neck.

 

“Have dinner with me,” he urges, low and close in Silva’s ear, “let Nando go out with James and Joe.”

 

Silva is warm and full and happy and the heavy presence still on top of him makes it hard to refuse. He drops a kiss on the side of David’s head.

 

“Let me up and I’ll think about it.”

 

David rolls sideways into the sand next to Silva so they’re lying side by side.

 

“Only if Nando wants to I mean. If you guys want to hang out then I can wait. But I’m not sure if he wants you there cramping his style on his night out with the lads.”

 

David’s consideration for Nando triggers a funny little pull in Silva’s chest.

 

“I’ll run it by him.”

 

David’s sunny answering smile makes Silva want to kiss him again but he figures it can wait. Instead, he watches David mouth as he replies.

 

“Perfect. All I can ask.”

 

 

\---

 

 

It’s late afternoon by the time Nando has had enough of the water and he collapses next to David, exhausted. David looks up from the book he had grabbed from his room and offers Nando a bottle of water and a banana that the teenager takes gratefully. Nando glances down the beach where Silva is rinsing off the boards and placing them back into their racks.

 

“So. You and my brother hey?” Nando starts without preamble.

 

David nearly chokes on his mouthful of juice but figures they hadn’t exactly been discreet.

 

“I’m working on it” is David’s measured response.

 

Nando seems to consider it in his mind for a second before shrugging and taking a swig of water.

 

“I’m not gonna have to threaten you am I? You seem pretty cool.”

 

David takes in the impossible lankiness and adolescent gawkiness of Nando’s frame and his open, still-childish face. He shakes his head.

 

“No, I don’t think so. I hope I’m fairly cool.”

 

Nando pounces on this opportunity. “Since you’re cool, you think you could convince him to let me go out tonight? I won’t be alone, Joe and James said they’d take me, plus I bet Geri and Cesc would come. And not that I don’t love my brother, but I don’t think he’d let me have too much fun.” He gives David his most winning smile.

 

David knows he’s being played but Nando’s goals align with his own so he feels little reluctance in replying affirmatively.

 

“I’ll see what I can do."

 

 

\---

 

 

Something is knocking into David’s side as the group walks back to the hotel. After three consecutive prods, David turns around to find Nando poking him with a banana, who then gestures with his head at Silva.

 

“What?” David mouths at him.

 

Nando clears his throat. “So, hermano. Hermano that I love very much and am really excited to see and hang out with. You probably have plans tonight already, right? Because you’re so popular and social and all.”

 

Silva rolls his eyes and turns towards his younger brother. “What do you want?”

 

Nando grins. “Funny you should ask actually. I mean I wasn’t going to bring it up, but now that you’ve mentioned it, there is something I’d sort of like.”

 

He ducks as Silva attempts to flick the side of his head before continuing.

 

“Joe and James mentioned that they’d be willing to take me out tonight for a small social event. Low-key, nothing crazy, just this place in town they know. I texted Geri and he said he and Cesc are in too, and Chori might come.”

 

Silva huffs a little laugh. “First of all Nando, I see right through your bullshit. You want to go clubbing. Secondly, Chori, Cesc, and Geri are hardly reassuring.” Silva pauses and takes in Nando’s hopeful face and David’s gentle smile.

 

“Fine. On a couple of conditions,” he says, ignoring Nando’s delighted whoop. He waits until Nando has composed himself before continuing. “You do not, under any circumstances, tell mum.” The look on Nando’s face indicates this will not be a problem. “You do not call me to come get you unless it is an actual emergency and people are dying or getting arrested.” Nando nods again. “You do not wear that ridiculous shirt.”

 

Nando opens his mouth to defend himself as much as protest when Silva cuts him off. “Those are my conditions. Take them or leave them.”

 

Nando responds with an excited hug before jogging off.

 

“I call first shower!”

 

Silva laughs at David’s bemused smile but gets the distinct impression he has lost the upper hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from Riptide by Vance Joy


	8. Good God, you're a sweet thing

Once Nando is dressed in a manner that Silva feels doesn’t embarrass their entire family, Silva hands him over to Chori (who is already grinning ominously) for dinner. Joe slings an arm round Nando and drags him off into the evening, chattering excitedly already while James lingers for a second with an apologetic smile.

 

“I’ll watch him; I’m not big on drinking anyways. Just enjoy your night.”

 

James’s sincerity does a little to assuage Silva’s older brother anxiety until Joe lets out a loud whoop and offers a flask to Nando, who takes it without reservations. James smiles sheepishly and follows.

 

Silva shakes his head ruefully but resigns himself to probably receiving a bail out call in the early morning to come get his brother, puking his guts out somewhere. All he can do is hope it’s after his date is over.

 

At the thought of the impending date, Silva’s stomach flutters a little bit, and he pads back into the room he’s sharing with Nando to get dressed and try to sort out his hair. Ten minutes and his nicest button-up shirt later, Silva is tugging his hair into some sense of order when there is a tentative knock on the door.

 

A glance at his wrist tells him David is exactly on time. Silva pulls the door open and attempts to give David a discreet once over until he notices David is unsubtly returning the favour. Silva can feel his face heat up under the perusal and allows his inspection of David to continue.

 

His hair is gelled neatly and expensive-looking studs glint in his ears. His pants are pressed and his trainers are spotless. Silva has to actively force himself not to try to brush his messy bangs off his forehead and adjust the way his shirt is tucked in when David drops his mock-appraising look.

 

“You look, uh, you look really good. Really nice. And I have something for you. So.”

 

He bundles a small object into Silva’s hands, who looks down to find himself holding a small pot.

 

“Is this- Did you bring me a cactus?” Silva asks, partially in disbelief.

 

David reddens and looks away, bringing one hand up to rub at the back of his neck.

 

“Well, yeah. It’s actually a succulent. I didn’t know if you’d want flowers but Elsa, my sister, she said it would be a nice gesture to bring something. And you can, I don’t know, maybe put it in your room?”

 

Silva smiles reassuringly at him, secretly relishing reconciling the blushing, stuttering mess with the shirtless hotel mogul kissing him unreservedly earlier that day.

 

“It’s perfect. Let me just set this down then we’ll go.”

 

As he turns around to place the pot on the bedside table, he hears a low exhale and some muttering that sounds suspiciously like a self-directed pep talk. He’s glad David can’t see the smitten look forming on his face.

 

 

\---

 

 

The walk down the hallway to the elevator is slightly awkward in its uncertainty as conversation comes in fits and starts and Silva finds himself rambling about his worry for Nando to fill the air until David stops abruptly.

 

“Look, I swear I’m listening and it’s totally cool if you say no, but can I just hold your hand?”

 

Silva stumbles over his words a little as David threads their fingers together, but recovers quickly and brings their hands up to press his lips against the back of David’s hand before continuing. If David has to reach across his body to call the elevator so as not to break their grip then it’s very much worth it to him.

 

 

\---

 

 

As they cut through the lobby, Silva makes to turn off to the main restaurant when David gives his hand a little tug, smiling at the usefulness of the newly intimate contact.

 

“I thought we could maybe get out of here. I kind of wanted to do this right and take you on a proper date without half of your friends watching if that’s okay with you. If you’d rather stick around here though, that’s, uh, that's totally fine as well.”

 

Silva’s beaming smile puts David’s uncertainty to bed as they continue on to the parking lot. David fishes a set of keys out of his pocket and unlocks a sleek black car with a quiet _whump_. Silva feels a funny tug in his chest when David drops his hand to take a few quick strides to beat Silva to the door to pull it open for him before jogging to the other side of the car and sliding into the drivers seat.

 

The drive passes quickly with conversation flowing easily after the ice had been broken. David teases Silva gently about the latters poor attempt at disguising his fretting.

 

“He’s probably already wasted by now, chatting up scores of women. He’ll probably have some knocked up by the end of the night.”

 

Silva shakes his head ruefully before finally joining in. “Is this before or after I have to bail him out from prison?”

 

“After I’d say, but before he gets beat up by drug dealers.”

 

Silva rolls his eyes and David glances at him out of the corner of his eyes as he pulls into a parking spot. He brushes a kiss to the corner of Silva’s jaw as he pulls his key out of the ignition and mumbles something vaguely reassuring and conciliatory in his ear. Silva can’t help but give him a begrudging smile as they get out of the car.

 

 

\---

 

 

The restaurant they’ve arrived at is one that Silva’s only ever seen from the outside; the menu boasting inflated prices and rampant pretension. The lineup is snaking out the door but David slips through with a quiet word with the maître d’.

 

“I’ve got a reservation under Villa. I think you have a table for us.”

 

After a handshake and a knowing look, the two are led to a booth near the patio with a view out over the water at the setting sun. Wine is waiting in a chiller and a candle is burning low as David looks nervously at Silva, who is completely endeared with the amount of effort David has obviously gone to.

 

“This looks amazing Guaje.”

 

“I’m glad you think so” he replies warmly. He moves to continue when a waiter discreetly appears to fill their water glasses and pour wine, disappearing after setting a basket of bread down.

 

David watches Silva’s face as he studies the menu, frowning slightly as he scans the prices.

 

“Order what you want, it’s on the house.” David reassures.

 

Silva glances curiously up at him so David continues.

 

“This is my dad’s place,” he explains, “so I’m getting a steak, maybe two.”

 

Silva closes his menu with a grin.

 

\---

 

 

Nando is waiting in line at yet another street cart for another course of desserts when Chori appears over his shoulder and reaches into his pocket for a wad of bills, shoving a couple more into Nando’s hand.

 

“This one’s on me Nando.”

 

“They all have been,” Nando replies wryly, “David got this sorted?”

 

“Yeah, David, but not your brother,” Chori concedes. “The Villa kid was adamant you get taken care of, and it works out pretty well for both of us.”

 

He gestures at the vendor for two of whatever he’s selling and the two set off in pursuit of the Englishmen.

 

 

 

\---

 

 

As the sun dips lower over the water, David finds he is incredibly relieved the conversation is flowing more easily after the better part of a bottle of wine and three or so courses. Not only is the atmosphere comfortable but Silva has stopped taking so many nervous sips of water (and therefore David has stopped having to watch his throat work and wrench his eyes away from following his collar).

 

Silva brazenly picks at David’s dessert plate and David can’t bring himself to mind.

 

Once the two have eaten all they care to, they linger at the table, enjoying their wine and watching the sun paint streaks over the harbour. The easy peace is only broken when Silva clears his throat purposefully.

 

“I never really addressed that night I guess. Or apologized.” Even in the erratic shadows thrown by the candlelight and sunset, Silva can’t hide the colour rising in his cheeks. David leans forward and moves to dismiss any potential awkwardness but Silva stops him by covering David’s hand with his own.

 

“No, I mean it. I’m having a great time but just give me a minute to get this off my chest.” Silva takes a deep breath to steady himself against his embarrassment.

 

David nods and settles back into his chair, keeping his gaze trained on the horizon to give Silva some semblance of privacy.

 

“I don’t, uh, I don’t do this a lot,” he gestures vaguely in between them, “which is probably fairly obvious given the way I remember sort of throwing myself at you.”

 

Any noise of protest David makes is shot down with a wry smile from Silva.

 

“No it’s fine, I remember enough to know I did kind of proposition you. And when you turned me down, I was pretty pissed. But mostly because of how embarrassed I was. I mean _shit_ Guaje; even then I was so into you. Anyways. This has all been the most thorough and kind of overwhelming apology I have ever received and to be honest you were forgiven before any of this, I just needed to get over how mortified I was.”

 

Silva laughs a little self-deprecatingly and shakes his head before continuing. David threads their fingers together under the table.

 

“So. I’m sorry for letting things get so out of hand afterwards, and I wanted to say how cool it was of you. I’m glad you said no, because I’m really liking getting to know you like this.”

 

The shy smile Silva offers, making eye contact for the first time since he started speaking, makes David’s heart stutter for a second, and he has to take a moment to get his thoughts in order. Silva falters at David’s momentary silence and continues.

 

“Not that I, uh, changed my mind. I mean, we could still, you know, if you wanted to I guess-“

 

David cuts him off with a firm, closed-mouth kiss.

 

“We're in no rush. We’ll just see where it goes, sound good?” He asks with a smile once Silva has been properly reassured.

 

Silva’s smile is back.

 

“I’d like that.”

 

 

\---

 

 

Once their hands are linked, David is loathe to drop Silva’s and thus drives back to the resort entirely one-handed, facilitated by some borderline reckless driving and, thankfully, valet service.

 

In the elevator up to Silva’s room, David glances at their reflection in the mirrored walls. Silva’s head is resting comfortably on David’s shoulder and his eyes are closed, lashes a dark smudge across his freckled cheekbones. David thinks about the beachy island and it’s borderline absurd inhabitants and wonders about the last place that felt this much like home.

 

He gives a gentle tug to sleepy Silva and they walk quietly to the door of the suite together. Silva looks at him uncertainly, obviously contemplating inviting him in, but David cuts the night off before any ambiguity or second-guessing can happen.

 

“Tonight has been perfect and I’m going to kiss you again now, and then I’m going to go back to my room. I said I wanted to do this right and I really mean it.” He shakes his head ruefully before continuing. “In like ten minutes I’m going to be pretty pissed at myself but I’m serious about this and I’d really like to be serious about you.”

 

Silva answers his questioning look with a solemn nod before rolling up onto the balls of his feet to meet David halfway. The kiss is thorough and unhurried, unlike the messy and desperate ones that came before it. David can feel the sleek lines of Silva’s body against his own and threads his fingers through Silva’s downy hair before pulling carefully at Silva’s lower lip with his teeth. He smiles a little at the tightening of Silva’s fingers in his shirt and on the back of his neck.

 

A few minutes later, David pulls away, slightly breathless.

 

“I’m going to leave now while I still have some semblance of control.” He says, all but leering at Silva.

 

Silva’s chest is rising and falling rapidly and he shakes his head with a funny little huff, looking more than slightly disgruntled. David chuckles at Silva’s grumbling and presses a quick kiss to his temple, finding once he is allowed to kiss Silva unreservedly, it's fairly difficult to stop.

 

“I need to go have a cold shower or something,” he says, only half joking to commiserate. “Text me when Nando is home safe?”

 

Silva can hardly stay cranky when David is demonstrating more than a superficial concern for Nando’s well being. He leans into David, pressing his forehead against David’s shoulder before nodding.

 

“I will. Thanks again for tonight. I had a great time, as you may or may not be able to tell.”

 

David laughs at Silva’s small smile and plants one last hard kiss on his mouth before turning down the hallway. He doesn’t let himself look back until after he hears the door click shut behind him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from Hozier's cover of Sweet Thing by Van Morrison
> 
> come say hey or whatever at my new blog just-collingtree.tumblr.com where I blog sporadically (and erratically) after my old one became full of absurd messages


	9. And yes I know my guard's down but I don't mind it for you, see

Silva leans back against the closed door and scrubs a hand over his face before moving to the bathroom to splash cold water over his cheeks and neck. A glance in the mirror reveals a mouth reddened by pressure and Silva can’t help but smile, more than slightly smug. As he brushes his teeth and drags his kiss-mussed hair out of his eyes, Silva reflects that his previous worries and self-examinations in the mirror of his staff bedroom were perhaps in vain given the events of the past week.

 

He pulls off his t-shirt and plugs his phone in to charge, setting it to loud for the potential SOS call before switching on the TV and idly flipping through the channels. Silva passes time watching mindless crime dramas as background noise while he replays his evening in his mind, lingering on the good night and feeling a strange mixture of relief and disappointment.

 

David’s insistence on due process is something Silva finds impossibly sweet and terribly rare; however he finds there is certainly something to be said about the sort of maddening steadiness in which David kissed him.

 

Before Silva can get too caught up in remembering David’s careful tenderness, he gives his head a shake to drag himself out of his potentially inappropriate mindset in preparation of spending time with his younger brother.

 

The exertion from surfing coupled with the excitement from the night and the worrying; both about his impending date and Nando’s night out eventually tire Silva out. With the TV still murmuring quietly in the background, Silva falls asleep with a smile still on his face.

 

 

\---

 

 

True to his word, David jumps in the shower upon his return to his suite. After cooling himself down sufficiently, he towels himself off and reaches for his phone, debating the merits of sending Silva a goodnight text versus remaining a little more aloof and decides that ship has basically sailed after pressing him up against his door frame and mounting a thorough examination with his mouth and hands.

 

Once he has made up his mind, he unlocks his screen, only to find a handful of missed calls from an unknown number. Curiosity piqued, David calls back and waits absently, remembering the feel of Silva’s hair between his fingers when a familiar, accented voice greets him amidst a cacophony of music and shouting.

 

“Hello David? It’s James Milner here, from the resort. I’m the, er, the surf instructor.”

 

“Yes of course, hello James. What’s up?” David answers, puzzled.

 

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything but I’ve got a pretty messy Nando here and Chori and Joe are, surprisingly, nowhere to be found. I’m wondering if you could come pick us up? He’s adamant it has to be you. I’m reluctant to throw him in a cab in case he throws up everywhere, but I certainly could if you’re busy…”

 

David huffs out a little laugh and rolls his eyes at both Nando’s inexperience and the altogether unsurprising disappearing act.

 

“La Furia Roja? I can be there in ten.”

 

James offers a relieved affirmation and relays that they’ll be waiting outside while Nando catches some air. David tugs on a pair of pants and a sweater and grabs a bottle of water and, after a moment’s consideration, the wastepaper basket just in case.

 

 

\---

 

 

As he pulls up outside the club, David scans the street until he finds two figures separate from the queue, one leaning quite heavily on the other. Nando looks more than slightly absent and James looks considerably more alert than he’d like to be given the state of his company. David puts the car in park and climbs out to help James bundle a babbling Nando into the backseat. Once he’s firmly installed and wrestled into his seatbelt, David plants the pail in his hands and manages to extract a bleary promise Nando will at least attempt to use it should things get desperate.

 

James climbs into the front seat, visibly relieved at sharing the surprisingly weighty burden of Nando’s slight frame. Nando hums contentedly as James heaves out a weary sigh and David swings through a drive through to get something for Nando’s stomach.

 

Quite a few fast food burgers and a surprise power nap later, James and David are once again wrestling Nando, this time through the lobby and into the elevator before finally depositing him in front of his hotel room door. Nando chooses this point to become slightly more coherent and insist that James and David leave him and swears them to secrecy.

 

James is all too happy to head home and bids both of them goodnight but David waits around the corner until he can hear Nando’s pounding on the door come to an end and some furious muttering from Silva. Just before David turns to leave, he hears Silva forcing water upon his brother and asking with an exasperated fondness if he had a good time. David chances a glance around the corner and sees Silva gently brush Nando’s hair off his forehead and help him inside.

 

Any irritation David may have felt at being dragged out of his bed evaporates instantly as he heads back to his room, acknowledging his growing soft spot for Silva’s cheeky brother, having long since accepted his feelings for Silva himself.

 

 

As he’s getting ready for bed the second time in as many hours, David’s phone dings.

 

\- _Nando home, completely wasted but at least he’s safe and sound. Wandered back alone and somehow with a hamburger in his pocket but sometimes best not to ask._

 

And then

 

- _Thanks again for tonight. I had a great time. Come say goodbye to Nando tomorrow? He leaves before noon and I think he’d like to see you_

 

David feels a swoop in his stomach at being increasingly included in Silva’s private life and replies before he remembers he isn’t necessarily supposed to be awake still.

 

 

\---

 

 

Both Silva brothers are both already asleep by the time David’s text comes through.

 

\- _I’ll be there_

 

 

\---

 

 

Nando wakes up the next morning to a facetiously chirpy Silva, dragging him out of bed in some sort of awful symmetry.

 

“Come on hermano, don’t tell me last night was too much for you?”

 

Nando’s answering groan is answer enough without being a straight up admission and Silva helps pull him up to sitting and lowers his voice to a more reasonable level before continuing.

 

“I’ve let you sleep for as long as I could but you should probably grab something to eat before you head home, even if it doesn’t feel like it now.”

 

Nando still looks a little green around the edges but allows Silva to half drag him out of bed and shove him into the bathroom. After a quick shower, Nando emerges looking considerably more human and less nauseous and appears relieved upon spotting his bags waiting packed by the door. He looks up to thank his brother and finds Silva looking engrossed in his phone.

 

“How’s the novio?” Nando asks, only sort of teasing. He vaguely remembers a sleek black car and mercifully quiet ride home and has long since decided he approves.

 

Silva lifts an eyebrow and yells “none of your business!”

 

Nando winces and brings his hands up to his temples but figures he might deserve it.

 

Silva smirks and continues more quietly. “David says a car is waiting to take you home in just under an hour. He sends his apology but he couldn’t wrangle a limo this time.”

 

Nando pretends to look affronted while Silva rolls his eyes and shakes his head before slinging Nando’s bag over his shoulder and tossing a pair of sunglasses at his younger brother. Nando slips them on gratefully and follows his brother out of the room after one last longing glance at the king sized bed.

 

The walk to the elevator passes mostly in silence until Nando drags himself out of his own hung-over misery to address his older brother seriously, and incredibly presciently for a typically self-absorbed adolescent.

 

“Look, hermano, I know I give you shit most of the time, but I’m glad this is happening for you.”

 

Silva makes to laugh him off before Nando cuts in again quickly.

 

“No I’m serious. You’re a huge loser but you deserve good things and he seems like a pretty freaking good thing. Plus, I mean, he pitched for all my drinks last night so this is working out well for me too.”

 

Nando’s cheeky grin softens the seriousness of the moment and Silva tugs him close for a second, ruffling his hair like he used to when they were kids.

 

“I’m glad you approve then tonto. Honestly. It’s important to me. I think this has the potential to be kind of… I don’t know. Great maybe.” Silva is reduced to a semi-stammering mess in front of his brother and can’t bring himself to be embarrassed.

 

“And that’s enough info for me. We’re one step away from your sex life and no offense but that makes me even more nauseous.” With a prod to Silva’s side with his elbow, Nando skips off towards the employee’s entrance to the kitchen, leaving his older brother to wonder just when Nando became so comfortable around the resort.

 

Silva is left alone momentarily to contemplate his non-existent sex life when David himself appears by his side and greets him with a casual kiss square on the mouth. Santi’s excited cheer from behind his desk breaks through Silva’s loved-up haze at the comfortable affection sends a little thrill down him at the innocuousness of it all.

 

David wraps an arm around Silva’s shoulder and nuzzles a good morning into his ear as they both sink into a couch to wait. Silva settles more firmly against David and tangles his fingers in David’s hand over his shoulder, reveling in the tactile comfort afforded by such a previously kind of cranky figure.

 

Nando picks this moment to reappear and mime gagging and Silva has to keep his grip on David firm to stop the older man removing his hand immediately in surprise and a misguided attempt at respect.

 

His hands are full of snacks securely wrapped in butcher paper and plastic bags which Silva supposes probably solves who has given Nando insider access to the kitchen. Nando looks incredibly self-satisfied and only slightly harassed so Silva supposes Cesc and Geri have gone easy on him.

 

 

A ding on David’s phone announces the arrival of the driver and car outside the main doors and Nando endures some of Silva’s fussing for a while before finally shoving him off good-naturedly. After promising to call when he’s home safe and a surprisingly friendly hug from David, Nando is off, presumably to nap his way back to his hometown where he will undoubtedly be quizzed by the extended family about the state of Silva’s work- and lovelife.

 

Silva finds he is finally satisfied with the answers Nando will be able to provide.

 

\---

 

 

It’s back to business as usual as Silva drops his bag back in the staff barracks before heading off for his shift with Navas, sad to see Nando go but ready for his return to routine and a semblance of normalcy.

 

He drops a lingering kiss onto David’s forehead as the latter eats his breakfast and Cesc and Geri let out a whoop and catcall respectively. Even Carles signals his approval by dropping off a smoothie and waiting around until David looks up at him questioningly.

David can’t help be surprised when his first non-mandated interaction with the head chef opens with the shaggy giant asking, “do you play football?”

 

David coughs for a bit before hurriedly replying affirmatively.

 

Puyi nods approvingly.

 

“We’re planning on meeting by the surf hut after the kitchen closes tonight, maybe 10 or so. You should come, we have a bit of a kick around.”

 

David jumps at the opportunity.

 

“I’m in!”

 

Puyi nods again and David feels more accustomed to him quietly leading by example, and can’t help but feel a little proud as Puyol hurries back to put out a metaphorical (or literal, knowing Geri and Cesc) fire in the kitchen. After finishing his meal and neatly sorting away his dishes, David continues on to Pepe’s office for what surely has to be an interesting debrief.

 

 

\---

 

 

David knocks hesitantly on Pepe’s doorframe, already braced for some sort of outrageous reaction, and when Pepe looks up with a wolfish smile, David knows he won’t be disappointed.

 

“Hey Casanova, get enough sleep last night?” Pepe leers at him.

 

David is, for all intents and purposes, an adult. He has had adult relationships and adult conversations. He is still blushing furiously under his old friend’s scrutiny and scrunches his face up into a scowl to hide his embarrassment and, it has to be said, self-satisfaction.

 

“Get your head out of the gutter Pepe. Nando’s in town and I stayed up late to make sure he got home safe.”

 

Pepe grins and takes an almost threateningly aggressive bite out of an apple. “Already part of the family then hey Guaje? Moving pretty quick!”

 

Instead of rising to the bait, David has to bite back a smile lest Pepe think he’s gone soft.

 

“Just helping out a pal.”

  

Pepe doesn’t even pretend to be fooled.

 

“I hope not just a pal from the way I heard he was talking about you to Navas out by the pool earlier! Otherwise he’ll be terribly let down.”

 

David can’t help himself, perking up immediately.

 

“You’ve uh, you’ve heard him say something then? Today? Or recently?”

 

His attempt at playing it cool fools neither of them really.

  

“Wouldn’t you like to know!” Pepe finishes his apple and chucks the core in the bin from behind his desk. “Now come on. I’m taking you through inventory. I’ll tell you if you’re a really good boy and help your uncle Pepe lots and lots.”

 

David submits himself to the patronizing and pulls up a chair to get to work in faint hopes that Pepe may actually drop an anecdote instead of holding them over his head. To be fair, David concedes, this isn’t very likely.

 

 

\---

 

 

 

Alba drops by around lunch with a pile of take away boxes from Cesc and Geri and David suspects they may be over-compensating still, although given the contents of the boxes, neither he nor Pepe mind.

 

Alba leaves after blowing kiss after mocking kiss at David and proclaiming he hopes to see both of them later that night.

 

Pepe looks up in surprise. “You’re invited?”

 

David raises an eyebrow at him. “I’m not completely socially inept, and I have played before.”

 

“One of those is not necessarily true but I’ll leave it for you to wonder. I was just surprised because Puyi doesn’t invite just anyone, so this is big for you. Looks like your boyfriend has finally got you in.”

 

“Boyfriend?” David asks, slightly startled.

 

“That’s all you took from that?” Pepe asks, disbelieving. David looks at him pointedly so Pepe finally continues. “I mean he didn’t explicitly say that but I just kind of figured… Am I wrong? Is he wrong? Shit Guaje I already talked to you once about this.” Pepe pulls his glasses off and rubs his eyes before glaring at David.

 

David stammers over himself in his haste to correct his friend. “No. No, no relax Pepe. I’m doing this right; it’s just nice to hear that’s the page he’s on too. ” David holds his hands up and Pepe backs off.

 

“Right. Okay. This is on me then, forget I said anything. But look at you Guaje! I haven’t see, you this serious about anything ever!”

 

David pulls a face. “Yeah, my playboy ways were really taking their toll on me.”

 

Pepe snorts in a not entirely complimentary manner. “I meant you were too busy with school and too into maths so if you’re trying to big yourself up, you’ve picked the wrong target here.”

 

David shakes his head ruefully. “I wish I could protest but that may be fair enough.”

 

Pepe waves his hand as if to say _duh_ before urging David back to work. David complies with minimal whinging but his head is not really there. _Boyfriend_ , he turns over in his mind, idly noting it doesn’t inspire the panic it used to. _Boyfriend_. He imagines Silva’s smiling face.That, David muses, he could get used to.

 

 

\---

 

 

Silva works through dinnertime and David and Pepe catch another take away meal over a seemingly endless pile of paperwork. By the time the sun is setting out the office window, David and Pepe are both ready for a stretch and probably a drink. They call it a night and David heads out to swap his clothes, not before extracting a promise that Pepe will at least make an appearance in the makeshift net that night.

 

 

\---

 

 

Slinging a towel over his shoulder, Silva postpones the shower after his shift knowing the surprisingly vicious staff game planned that night. He cuts through the lobby en route to his building and spots David across the room. He’s dressed in slick trousers and a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows and Silva gets a wave of pride thinking that David is in some small way _his_.

 

David rubs his eyes blearily and rolls his neck side to side before spotting Silva making his way towards him. It’s the most ‘eyes meeting across a crowded room' moment of David’s life and he finds himself loving it in spite of himself. His face lights up as he takes in Silva’s narrow figure slipping through groups of tourists and appearing at his side.

 

Silva greets him with a kiss as is quickly becoming customary and says a quick hello. They chat quietly for a couple of minutes as Silva prepares him for the surprisingly brutal night he should be expecting before making plans to walk down to the beach together. David is distracted by Silva’s mostly-bare chest until he remembers he is sort of allowed to stare now, and reaches out to casually rest a hand on Silva’s waist while he is filled in on various tactical nuances. His thumb moves softly back and forth against Silva’s skin, who pauses for a minute to smile blindingly.

 

“Be my boyfriend,” David blurts before he can stop himself.

 

Silva is quiet for a second before snorting a little.

 

“I mean… Well I meant what I said I guess,” David says, reddening, “but I was going to ask you a little more impressively and less like a child.”

 

Silva looks up at him from under his lashes, suddenly shy.

 

“I think I’ll say yes anyways if it’s all the same to you.”

 

David can feel his smile against his mouth before Silva has got the last word out entirely. Santi has to clear his throat from behind his counter, snickering as he interrupts a kiss that may or may not be appropriate for the family-infested lobby.

 

Silva scampers off with a wave over his shoulder and David continues on to the bank of elevators as originally planned. _Boyfriend_ he thinks to himself again. He doesn’t even try to wipe the smile off his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from This Life by Josef Salvat


	10. We're in this game together, and I believe in you

David pulls on a pair of athletic shorts and an old-school Sporting Gijon jersey before raiding the mini-bar for a bottle of water. After grabbing a pair of his grubbiest trainers, he heads down to the lobby where Silva is waiting with Cesc and Geri. The two kitchen workers are are kitted out in matching Barcelona tops, already scheming or plotting with their heads together as Silva obviously suppresses the urge to laugh or roll his eyes or both.

 

The foursome are joined on their trek to the beach by Mata as they cut through the courtyard, who shows up equipped with a cooler of sports drinks most likely lifted from the kiosk. David snorts a little but Mata raises his eyebrows, daring him to comment.

 

Instead of rising to any bait, David tangles his fingers with Silva and lets the banter and friendly jibes wash over him. Silva tucks himself a little closer, ducking his head into David’s shoulder before Geri’s face appears between theirs and his massive hands are shoving them apart.

 

“Save this stuff for later you two! I have a weekend shift riding on us winning tonight. I need you to both be on top of your game, none of this foreplay until after Puyi says my Saturday night is secure!”

 

David scoffs to cover up any irritated embarrassment he may feel at Geri’s forwardness but Silva just gives him a mock-sneer, obviously long used to this kind of thing.

 

Their arrival at the designated section of the beach is punctuated with a whoop as Cesc spots Pepe doing a lazy warm up with Iker, both having sourced a pair of gloves somewhere.

 

David recognizes a couple of faces from his night out at _La Furia Roja_ as well and gives a wave to Sergio, who answers with a wink over Navas’ shoulder. Álvaro appears too, lingering a little off to the side. Silva is pulled off into some sort of diminutive midfielder conference by an excited Santi so David heads over to his vague acquaintance to pass some time.

 

“Chori’s on his way I think, just restocking the bar after his shift.”

 

“Ahh cool,” Álvaro replies. “We’ve had a pretty good turn out. Get our own little island Clàsico happening!”

 

David smirks. “Only with more pressure, no?”

 

Álvaro snorts but replies gravely. “Obviously, this is about honour.”

 

Before David can say anything else, Chori arrives and drags him away from “the enemy,” only half-joking. He is pulled into the fold of _Villa Las Palmas_ employees, halfway through an impassioned team talk by Puyol.

 

Pepe and Iker flip for shirts and skins but the blonde bartender David vaguely recognizes from the club is pulling off his vest even before the coin lands. Sergio follows suit cheerfully and David figures this matter is sorted. Iker only grumbles a little.

 

The game kicks off after all their shoes are piled in painstakingly paced-out intervals and subs are sent to chat on the sidelines. David takes his time to observe the rhythm and rules, marveling at the near telepathic tendencies of the Xavi-Andres link-up play, understanding perhaps borne out of hours of coordinating in the dining rooms and kitchen. He can’t help but begrudgingly admire the athleticism and pace on display from _Real Las Palmas’_ forward line.

 

A couple minutes in, Navas’ burst of speed is hacked down by a clumsy tackle from Sergio and David watches the game descend into a mess of play-acting and mock fighting as Navas tugs Sergio to the ground too and attempts to fill his mouth with sand, both teams crying foul. Navas hops up and hobbles to the sideline to grab a drink, limping exaggeratedly and motioning for David to sub in for him.

 

Navas is skipping normally towards the cooler once he has vacated the makeshift field and David feels any worries he may have had disappear, both for Navas’ well-being and the nature of the game.

 

David takes a couple of minutes to adjust to the pace of the game (and finds himself more out of breath than he would really like to be) and chats to the sunny Brazilian left-back he’s matched against as he waits for his second wind.

 

The game continues its back and forth as Pedro puts the home team up one-nil before the tall, tanned, and toned Portuguese surf-instructor blasts past Pepe to equalize. After conceding, Pepe grumbles good-naturedly for a second before telling Andres to text Victor to take over for him, using his advancing age and score of children as excuses to turn in early.

 

Once the sous-chef turns up, grumbling slightly until Andres prods him until he takes over for the general manager, who then quits the beach with a wave.

 

The game remains deadlocked for a bit, although not for lack of effort on either side. There are frequent stops for sports drinks, water, or beer, as well as multiple stoppages in play due to the eager tackles from either team. As expected, Geri and Cesc spend much of the game rolling around in the sand, alone, together, and with their opposition. Cesc ends up perched on Iker’s back after a particularly hectic play. Iker then begs off too to go home to his family, relinquishing his position suspiciously to Joe after extracting promises to not sabotage his rival resort. Joe grins and nods but David remembers his shaky grasp of Spanish and has his doubts.

 

Any questions over Joe’s athletic integrity are put to bed a moment later as he absolutely squashes David coming out to collect a cross. David is left flat on his stomach, spitting out sand and rubbing his eyes. Joe gives him a cheeky pat on the bum and helps him to his feet and the game goes on.

 

 

\---

 

 

As the very last of the sun begins to set, Puyol calls out for the last five minutes of play. In the dying minute, Silva weaves his way past a very classy looking, ginger-bearded accountant from _Las Palmas Reales_ and then skips around Sergio, releasing the ball neatly before he is brought to the ground by the towering defender, both grinning. David sees his chance and slips between Álvaro and (slightly ruefully) his new friend Marcelo and latches on to the through ball, taking a touch before sliding it past Joe at full stretch.

 

The _Villa Las Palmas_ staff erupt in cheers and David sprints over to Silva, launching himself on top of him, laughing as they are then smothered by the weight of the rest of the team.

 

The _Palmas Reales_ boys grumble without venom, swapping some handshakes before piling into a few sandy cars and heading home across the city.

 

Gradually, the home team gets up and brush themselves off, gathering their shoes and jackets until only David and Silva are left on the sand, David still sprawled over Silva, both grinning.

 

David buries his face into Silva’s hair and laughs a little breathlessly in his ear and Silva can’t help but squirm a little underneath him.

 

“Too bad we weren’t skins hey Silvita?”

 

Silva huffs out a little laugh in return before Chori calls out.

 

“Hey you two! Not that we’re not all loving drowning in sexual tension here, but we’re heading back to David’s room for some cards.”

 

“I don’t remember inviting you?” David calls back, although he’s only kidding himself as resistance is pretty futile given his current company.

 

“You didn’t,” Chori concedes, “although that’s never stopped me before.”

 

 

\---

 

 

The thought of ten or so sandy pairs of shorts on the suite’s pristine white couch makes David grimace unconsciously, but surrounded by the excited chatter of his surprising new friends and the slightly sweaty but adorably ruffled presence under his arm in the lift, David figures after 22 years of playing it safe, making a mess this once won’t kill his father (or, by extension, him).

 

 

\---

 

 

David huffs a little at the pile of dirty trainers and sandals left at the door and the trail of sand to the chairs and kitchen but Silva gives his arm a squeeze before following the group and David decides things can’t be too bad after all.

 

Geri produces a deck of cards and a case of poker chips from seemingly nowhere and Cesc produces an armful of chips and other various snacks from David’s kitchen. Before long, a cutthroat game is in full swing and David has found himself out all the cash in his wallet as well as owing an IOU to Santi for a couple of chocolate bars and a promise to visit him more often.

 

Silva is engaged in some elaborate battle of guts and wit with a disarmingly straight-faced Geri when most of their company decides to head back to their rooms, yawning and stretching and thanking David for his (semi-enforced) hospitality. Cesc sticks around to stuff his face with the rest of the remaining snacks on offer, assuring David through a mouthful of something sugary that he will make sure the other two don’t come to blows while David gets cleaned up. Cesc’s sticky-looking hands don’t necessarily bode well but David is eager to get rid of the sweat and sand so heads to the shower.

 

\---

 

 

Silva is doing his best to clean all the grubby handprints off the highly burnished table and tidy away all the empty snack packaging when he hears David emerge from the bathroom. He glances up reflexively at the noise and catches a glimpse of David, clad only in a towel for the quick walk from the bathroom to what Silva assumes is his bedroom. Silva watches a drop of water make it’s way down David’s neck to pool above his collarbones and clears his throat before his eyes can drift much lower.

 

David glances up on his way past the doorframe and makes eye contact with a semi-gaping Silva. He smiles a little self-consciously and pushes his uncharacteristally unstyled hair out of his eyes.

 

“Thanks for helping out with that,” David says, gesturing towards the table.

 

Silva mumbles some sort of reply, distracted with David having to remove one hand from holding up the towel to point at the mess.

 

“It’s no problem. Thanks for having us.”

 

David smirks a little, enjoying the attention self-consciously. “Geri and Cesc gone?”

 

“As soon as he won all my money they disappeared. Same thing every time.” Silva shakes his head ruefully.

 

“Give me a sec to get dressed then I’ll help you with that,” David inclines his head towards Silva’s armful of trash, keeping his hands securely on his towel.

 

“Sounds good.” Silva manages to not sound too strangled or disappointed, but doesn’t stop himself from watching David’s retreating back, only averting his eyes when he notices through the crack left in the door that David is about to drop his towel. He busies himself looking for a broom.

 

Inside the master bedroom, David grins.

 

 

\---

 

 

A couple of minutes later, David emerges wearing a pair of cotton shorts and worn-in t-shirt that is sticking to his still-damp skin. Silva is studiously averting his gaze while he brushes the sand off the floor, cheeks slightly reddened. David crosses the room to approach his boyfriend ( _boyfriend!_ ) and sets the broom against the table before bringing his hands up to frame Silva’s face and placing a series of kisses against Silva’s smiling mouth.

 

Before things can get much further, Silva pulls back reluctantly.

 

“I’m still pretty sweaty,” Silva mumbles, scrunching up his face in a way that David has to kiss him again.

 

“It’s getting pretty late. Do you want to shower here?” David asks casually, watching Silva’s face slide into surprise before continuing.

 

“I mean there are two bedrooms here and I can lend you some clothes to sleep in. There’s another toothbrush still in the package behind the mirror and I’ve got an extra phone charger. We could have breakfast together tomorrow…”

 

David trails off, feeling himself start to ramble but watching the bemused smile spread on Silva’s face and feeling it might be working.

 

“As long as there’s breakfast,” Silva replies. He can’t resist pushing David’s soft hair off his face and pressing one more kiss to his forehead before heading to the bathroom.

 

 

\---

 

 

David has cleared up most of the rubbish and resigns himself to leaving a healthy tip for the cleaning staff. He fusses around the suite tidying up and fiddling to kill time while Silva finishes showering before setting a folded up t-shirt and pair of shorts on top of the clean towels outside the bathroom door. After hesitating for a second, he adds a clean pair of boxers to the pile and knocks on the bathroom door to inform Silva of their presence and that David will retreat to the bedroom to give him some privacy. Silva’s watery reply does little to reassure him.

 

The rest of his time waiting is spent fiddling with his phone sitting on the edge of the bed until Silva emerges from the cloud of steam. He pads into David’s bedroom, toweling his hair off. David’s heart skips a beat as Silva tosses the shorts back to him, mumbling about them being too big. The t-shirt hangs off him pleasingly and David will never admit how strangely satisfying it is to Silva wearing his clothes.

 

“Ready for bed?” Silva asks slightly bashfully, pulling David out of his own musings.

 

David nods semi-mutely, more nervous than he should be as they pull back the bedclothes together with an intoxicating domesticity. David pulls back the bed covers and slides carefully into what he assumes is his side, still feeling out the fresh edges of their burgeoning relationship.

 

Silva shucks his t-shirt casually and raises an eyebrow until David does the same, who had kept his own on in the balmy room for propriety’s sake. Silva makes a small pleased noise and climbs under the covers himself, immediately crossing David’s imaginary and arbitrary boundary to tuck himself under David’s arm and setting his head down against David’s chest.

 

David strokes up and down his side absently, reveling in the pleasing warmth, and makes no moves to take anything further. After a couple of minutes, Silva is a dead weight half-sprawled on top of him and breathing softly against David’s skin, tired out by a long shift and the social events of the night.

 

David holds out a little bit longer before he succumbs to tiredness but not before pressing a gentle kiss against Silva’s hairline, who snuffles softly and burrows further into David’s chest. Silva still smells like sunshine and sand underneath the scent of David’s soap, and David has a terrible feeling this is something he’s already getting used to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from Open Season by Joseph Salvat (two in a row heyo)


	11. And my bones are calling out your name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an interlude of sorts

Silva wakes up long before his alarm, stifling hot under an unfamiliar weight. After a minute spent lying still and orienting himself, he turns slowly to study the owner of the hand splayed across the bare skin of his stomach.

 

With his hair unstyled and falling across his forehead, David looks younger and somehow softer than ever. Silva can’t help but smile and reach up to gently touch the little crease ever-present between David’s eyebrows, even in sleep. At the slight pressure, David’s frown increases and he draws Silva even closer to his chest reflexively.

 

Silva watches the beginnings of a sunrise for some time before deciding he’s had quite enough, both of waiting for David to wake up and, more broadly, waiting for things he wants. In order to achieve both of his goals at once, Silva disentangles himself and gently nudges at David’s shoulder until he rolls onto his back, baring a new expanse of skin Silva delights in.

 

Tearing himself away, Silva climbs nimbly out of his grasp and brushes his teeth and washes the sleep off of his face before returning to the bed, this time crawling over to straddle David’s waist. After a moment’s hesitation, Silva figures he might as well get on with it, and steels himself before leaning down to press an open-mouthed kiss against David’s neck.

 

With an exhale bordering on a sigh, David reaches up to rub a hand across his eyes and mumble distractedly as he’s pulled into consciousness by the presence perched across his lower stomach. He blinks furiously for a moment before realizing with a jolt what the unfamiliar weight on his torso is. Although it’s a surprising development, it’s entirely welcome, particularly as Silva’s clever hands come into play in light, teasing strokes up and down David’s exposed chest.

 

“Good morning,” David whispers, trying to preserve the dreamlike quality in the morning’s half-light. Silva pauses his mouth’s slow descent from neck to chest to smile up at David, so plainly and sweetly David’s heart stutters for second. Silva replies in kind, brushing his nose against David’s in a gesture that seems terrifyingly intimate. David can’t resist lifting a hand to his boyfriend’s face and running a thumb across his cheekbone before brushing it across his lips.

 

They remain like this for a few minutes, trading kisses and secret smiles before David’s body catches up to the tanned stretch of skin on display and he tightens his hold on Silva’s hips enough that the smaller man can feel his burgeoning erection.

 

The look Silva gives David in response is almost feline in nature, all flashing eyes and predatory as he reaches down to suck a bruise at the base of David’s throat. David feels a rush of heat and a clench in the base of his stomach at the flash of teeth as Silva’s hands begin to explore with more purpose.

 

David lets his own hands drift up and down Silva’s sides before settling on his waist to anchor him as the Canarian begins to seek friction, rocking gently against David who realizes that, despite David’s minimal participation thusfar, Silva is gratifyingly hard.

 

Swallowing a groan, David guides Silva upwards with a hand on the back of his neck and kisses him with none of the careful earnestness that characterized their previous romantic encounters. It’s a clash of teeth and tongues and Silva is tugging at David’s bottom lip with his teeth as he slides a hand into David’ shorts.

 

“Jesus Christ,” David hisses as Silva tightens his grip experimentally, feeling out the weight and breadth of him in his hand. With a leering grin bordering on obscene, Silva licks a stripe along David’s jawline in time with the rhythm of his hand and David almost swallows his tongue.

 

“Hold on,” David manages to grind out between clenched teeth, “please, you have to- ah, stop”.

 

Silva’s hand stills instantly and his face freezes before reddening immediately. He feels a rush of hot shame replace his arousal almost instantaneously and removes his hand like he’s been burned. Just as he’s about to scramble off David and probably out of the bed then out of the room, David grabs his wrist in a grip firmer than one he’s ever used to touch Silva in the past.

 

“No, stay,” David pleads, placing Silva’s hand flush against his chest and waiting until Silva meets his eyes again before continuing.

 

“I want this. God, I want this. I just- uh, I’m not sure how to do this like it matters.”

 

If his voice wavers or catches, neither man makes any mention of it.

 

The look Silva gives him isn’t pity or exasperation or annoyance or anything else David might have expected from a barely clad, more than partially hard twenty-something male but is instead so terribly tender that David finds himself adrift.

 

Silva studies his face a moment more before bringing a hand up to smooth away David’s hair and place a kiss on his forehead.

 

“It’s with you Guaje. For me, that will always make it matter,” he says solemnly.

 

David reaches up and kisses him again, simply because there is nothing left to say. Silva still smells like chlorine and saltwater and David no longer knows how to pretend he isn’t drowning.

 

“Well,” he says with a shaky laugh, “then I guess we’d better do this right.”

 

Silva resumes his eager ministrations, rocking hurriedly against him again and pushing and pulling with his hands while worrying his lower lip between his teeth, obviously making an effort with his audience in mind. The noises he’s making seem strange and tender in his mouth, uncharacteristically demonstrative.

 

After Silva pauses for a moment, looking uncomfortable and self-conscious, David picks up something is strangely amiss. Upon noticing his hesitation, David hauls himself upwards to drag his lower lip up the column of Silva’s throat to his ear.

 

“What’s the rush querido?” The endearment slips out before he can notice or care.

 

Silva ducks his head sideways.

 

“I just don’t want you to change your mind.”

 

The clench in David’s chest overrides the one low in his stomach and he rolls Silva onto his back. David kisses him like he can hardly believe he’s allowed to and breathes his reassurances against Silva’s skin before pulling back and kneeling at the foot of the bed.

 

“Look at me,” David laughs self-deprecatingly, gesturing towards his tented underwear, “there’s no chance of that happening.”

 

Silva laughs along with him, but any mirth dies in his throat when David slides his boxers down, and then pulls off his own until he can feel all of Silva’s skin against his own and it’s finally, _finally_ close enough.

 

Silva makes a funny little noise at that which David finds it infinitely sexier than anything before it and sets about inspiring it again. He rolls his hips gently into the heat between them; it’s slow and thorough at first, cocks sliding against each other and slickness forming between their stomachs until Silva huffs, sweet and low and David’s hips cant a little quicker reflexively.

 

As Silva starts to press upwards in time with his thrusting, David feels himself start to lose his carefully reigned-in rhythm in favour of increasing the pace and friction, putting a hand behind Silva’s knee and pressing it upwards and out.

 

“What do you want?” David’s voice is low and hoarse in Silva’s ear.

 

Silva wants heat and wants friction and wants David and _wants_ and can’t even still his hips let alone reply.

 

“God Silva, anything. I’ll give you anything.” Rationally, somewhere in a tiny corner of his mind not taken up by sunshine leftover on bare skin, David knows this isn’t a well-though out offer but finds it may ring true even after they’ve put their clothes on. Either way, Silva’s reaction is favourable as he reaches up to pull David down for a sloppy kiss and sliding a hand down to grip both of their erections together.

 

A curiously cross noise is dragged from Silva as David pulls away to sit on the edge of the bed before rummaging furiously through the bedside drawer. The search unearths a handful of plasters, two pens, a flash drive, and a pair of sunglasses and David groans through his teeth, running a hand frustratedly over his face.

 

Silva has a hand thrown over his eyes and the other wrapped almost idly over his erection. The view, David feels, in addition to the lack of relevant equipment available, calls for a change in plans.

 

Once Silva has opened his eyes again, David bats his hand away and replaces it with his own, keeping his grip firm and steady and painfully careful. Silva huffs again and David has to duck his head to hide his grin. He nuzzles against Silva’s chest and then lower, bringing his spare hand up to rub over Silva’s nipple and Silva lets out a breathy moan, more thankful than ever for David’s absurd designer stubble.

 

“Please,” Silva breathes, “please.” He’s writhing subtly against the sheets, past understanding and David wastes no time in indulging his quiet pleading.

 

He kisses Silva’s bellybutton then follows the faint trail of hair leading downwards with an open mouth, spreading Silva’s legs apart until finally taking him into his mouth. Silva’s hands flutter hesitantly until David reaches up to thread them through his own hair, giving him permission and even encouraging him to tug gently as David sucks and licks; slow, thorough, and serious. Silva alternates between patting and pulling, head thrown back and eyes closed, lashes fanning darkly across his cheekbones, stark against the rising blush.

 

He startles slightly when David pulls off and mouths lower, lips and tongue moving over Silva’s sack to suck gently at the skin behind. Silva’s fingers tighten unconsciously in David’s hair, pulling into the threshold of pain as he mutters a stream of half-mumbled cursing or pleading, David can’t be sure. The sound and taste and smell and _feel_ of Silva is irresistible and as David returns his mouth to Silva’s cock, he moves a hand to his own and starts jerking himself off roughly in time to his hand on his boyfriend.

 

Silva’s eyes open momentarily at the almost pained sound coming from David below his waist, hand pumping furiously upon himself. It’s not nearly as careful or controlled as it has been and Silva feels wrecked, hands clenching and mouth open. In his last moment of lucidness, he attempts to guide David’s head away. Instead, David swallows him down further and waits patiently as Silva cums, stroking and licking until Silva finally falls back, completely spent.

 

Silva’s eyes are closed and his chest and neck are a map of reddish marks, some fading and some darkening to bruisey smudges. His hair is sticking to the side of his neck and David can’t imagine ever wanting to be anywhere else.

 

David slides a hand up Silva’s pliant body, feeling the weary flex and pull of muscles under his warm skin. David muses idly that the sunlight stays banked on his skin long after the sun has set as he continues to stroke himself. Silva makes to sit up and grasp at David, who just presses him back into the mattress with his free hand before continuing his path up Silva’s torso, playing along his collarbones then following the column of his neck to grasp at his chin. A small, satisfied smile plays across Silva’s face and his eyes are partially closed, completely sated, and David refuses to tear his gaze away. He runs his fingers along Silva’s lips, who pokes a tongue out to lick at them before sucking the tips of David’s index finger into his mouth. David spills all over his hand instantly.

 

David rests his forehead against one of Silva’s legs, still spread soft and pliant, until he can catch his breath. Once he has collected himself enough to smile up at his boyfriend, Silva is sitting up and moving towards him, claiming his mouth in an open-mouthed kiss before David can warn him off. Silva licks into his mouth and hums as he tastes himself in a sound that makes David wish he could get hard again immediately.

 

“Holy shit Guaje,” Silva breathes once they’ve parted, “whoa.”

 

“Whoa,” David agrees. He can’t keep a self-satisfied off his face as he hauls himself away to clean up. As he’s soaping his hands, he looks out the open door to where Silva is lying, still naked and smiling up at him. Something in his chest aches to kiss and touch and keep him soft and close and he’s walking back to bed before he can stop himself, curling up around the smaller presence.

 

Feeling an arm slide around his middle, Silva is pulled out of his hazy, dreamy thoughts and turns over his shoulder to plant a tiny, chaste kiss on David’s lips before turning back to revel in the post-coital cuddling he hasn’t always been treated to or, truth to be told, interested in in the past. David places a series of kisses against the nape of Silva’s neck and Silva feels small, safe, and _kept_ as the two lovers watch the sun continue creeping up through the curtain.

 

At the feeling of David’s prickly stubble nuzzling the junction of his neck and shoulder, Silva squirms a little into his embrace, resulting in a tightening of the arms around his waist. Silva glances at the bedside clock and turns to speak earnestly to his boyfriend who only looks vaguely sheepish at his shameless pressing himself against Silva’s backside.

 

“I have to be ready for work in like an hour so I’m going to jump in the shower.” Silva smiles at the slightly put-out look David gives him as he begins to peel himself away.

 

It’s after Silva has begun walking away, giving David the complete view of his stark nakedness that he turns over his shoulder to address his boyfriend again.

 

“You coming?”

 

David only gets slightly tangled in the bedspread as he scrambles after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from All I Want by Dawn Golden


End file.
